The Boy Next Door
by DOJ
Summary: To Jean, Scott's always been the typical boy next door, but when new feelings begin to develop within her, Jean questions what Scott really means to her. JOTT
1. Prologue

A/N: X-men Evolution is back on air!!! (It was taken off after the second season a couple of months ago) To celebrate I'm thinking of starting a JOTT fic. This is just the prologue, so it WILL get better, I can assure you. Let me know what you think, I'd really like to know if you'd like me to continue.

Disclaimer: I, sadly enough, do not own the X-men in any way, shape, or form. Any thing in here that you do not recognize, however, is all mine.

= = =

Everybody loves the boy next door; the boy you've spent your whole life growing up with. Your parents meshed the two of you together at an early age, minds brimming with the ideas of carpools and shared babysitters, and you both blossomed from that early bond. He's the boy you shared carpools and toys with in preschool, occasional lunches and imaginary games with in elementary school, association, secret handshakes, and unseen conversations with in middle school, tears and heartaches with in high school, and when you're looking back on your life you realize he's the only one who's been with you through it all. When he's the new "it" boy at school, you're immediately labeled cool by association and all your girlfriends want you to hook them up with him, and he does the same for you whenever you're feeling down and without a boyfriend. He's beyond simply being the brotherly aspect of your live, but not quite right for a boyfriend. In any case he'll always be by your side, protecting you for all he's worth. He's closer than a boyfriend could ever be, but not close enough to take to the next level. He's always been your guinea pig when you've created your newest baking experiment, and he's the one you run to after you break up with your first – and last – boyfriend. He's the friend that insists on sleeping on your couch after you've fought with your boyfriend, in case you wake up with the sudden need to talk in the middle of the night. He's always offered you a shoulder to cry on, even after the two of you have a fight, he'll still stand up for you in your times of need. In a sense, he's the perfect guy, though you would never even consider going out with him. He's all you've ever needed in your life, even if you are too blind to realize it until he's gone.

For Jean Grey, that boy happened to live behind the next door, the nearest door down the hall. Scott Summers hadn't been the typical boy next door, as the two of them hadn't met until forces beyond their control brought them together towards the end of junior high, he and Jean failed to establish the crucial bonds of friendship at an early age. When they met, he had thought her a spoiled child who took the idea that she had a loving family for granted and she had thought him a hostile boy unable to love. Through the encouragement and pressure of the Professor and Ororo, Jean had reluctantly reached out to the elusive boy, and was surprised at the friend she found within him. As the years passed, Jean found that Scott was just the friend she needed, the one thing in her life she'd always been missing. He was her "boy next door," he was always there for Jean, no matter what she was going through, even though she occasionally took his extensive friendship for granted, the two of them formed a bond, deeper than the Professor had ever witnessed between two children. Jean knew that Scott appreciated their bond as much as she did, and she had never wanted to do anything that might jeopardize their friendship, so when slight feelings for the boy began to develop within her, she quickly dismissed them as a silly crush. But when those feelings began to squirm free of her protective hold over them, Jean found herself slowly beginning to question just what Scott Summers really meant in her life.

= = =

A/N: So that's the prologue, I'll probably continue to post at least one more chapter without the encouragement of reviews, but I'd really like to know what you all think, and if you think I should continue. Please Review! I haven't written an X-men fic in quite some time . . . I'm not sure if I still have it right.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: In response to both **softbalchick181** and **Reeny**, I'm really sorry I seem to have gotten everyone's hopes up, but I live overseas so cartoon network played the 1st and 2nd season of X-men Evolution repetitively, took X-men off the air for a few months, and is just now playing the 3rd season.

I'm not quite sure when this story takes place; it's most likely right before the Mutant Exposure, so the fic will probably lead a bit into that. Jean is still with Duncan (gag) and I suppose Scott is still with Taryn.

= = =

"I do _not_ have time for this!" Jean moaned between clenched teeth, banging furiously on her locker.

"Whoa, Jean, easy on the school property," the soothing, self-assured voice of Scott Summers filtered in through her rage. "Bad day?"

"That would be an understatement of major proportions."

Scott cocked his head to the side, his bangs falling over his face in a way that Jean found both adorable and maddening, raising his eyebrows in question.

Jean shook her head in frustration, "I was late for English because I had to explain to Coach Byrnes why I can't make it to practice today, I bombed my Calc. pop quiz, am now," she glanced at her watch, "seven minutes late to my NHS meeting, and my locker won't open. It's not funny!"

"I never said it was!" Scott raised his hands in a defeated gesture, laughter dancing in his shaded eyes, an amused smile creeping across his lips. He nodded towards her now slightly dented locker, "Would you like some help with that?"

Jean glared at him, hands placed firmly on her hips, "If _I_ couldn't open _my own_ locker, what makes you so sure that _you_ can?"

He sighed, shaking his head, "What's the combo?"

"What do I have to lose?" Jean muttered, just barely loud enough for Scott to hear, "34-26-13."

Scott deftly spun the dial, the locker cool beneath his fingers, his face narrowed in concentration. Jean loved the determined expression that graced Scott's face each time he concentrated, the intensity of his gaze that suggested he'd blocked out all surrounding distractions – the idea that it was just him and his mind. "There," he smiled smugly as the locker swung open.

"Oh, uh, thanks," Jean stammered, stepping forward to remove her books from her locker, ashamed at having been caught staring at him.

"I've got to go take Kitty and Kurt home, but I've got track practice in about half an hour, do you need a ride after your meeting?"

"Thanks, that sounds-" Jean's voice faltered as she caught sight of sun-bleached blonde hair moving towards her, _'Duncan,'_ she thought dully, "Um, actually, I don't know, Duncan might give me a ride." Heat flushed her cheeks as she remembered her boyfriend. _'Why am I blushing? I always talk to Scott about Duncan, so why do I suddenly feel so guilty?'_

"Oh, right," Scott's smile fell, replaced by one much more forced. "Well, if you can't get a ride, JV practices first so I'll be here 'till five.

"Right, thanks," she glanced at her watch again, "Well, I'd better be going, thanks for your help."

"Anytime," he smiled as she turned down the hall, throwing him a cautious, unsure smile over her shoulder.

"Hey, beautiful," Jean flinched inwardly as Duncan carelessly threw his heavy arm over her shoulder. She glanced behind her, catching sight of the disapproving frown gracing Scott's visage before he turned on his heel, striding towards the parking lot, sending a guilt-stricken pang to Jean's heart.

"Hey, Duncan, I'm really late for an NHS meeting, I've got to go." She ducked out from beneath his arm, half-running down the hall before he could protest; leaving her to wonder just what had possessed her lately.

= = =

In spite of self vows not to let Bayville's star quarterback bother him, the frown was still plastered on Scott's face as he approached his car two minutes later.

"Vell, it's about time!"

"Yeah, like that totally didn't take long."

Scott stepped into his car, turning the key in the ignition, oblivious to the vexed glares and incensed comments streaming from the younger X-men. Pulling back on the gear shift, Scott impulsively stepped on the gas, sending his trendy convertible lurching backwards.

"Scott!" Kitty squealed, gripping the head seat in front of her.

"Sorry," he muttered, shifting smoothly out of his parking spot and into the right lane.

"Vell, I'd say somevone's a bit preoccupied," Kurt raised his eyebrows, nodding suggestively towards Scott.

"And I'd say that that is an understatement," Kitty snorted.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Scott caught sight of the two teens staring bluntly at him. "What?" he questioned bewilderedly, "Sorry, did I miss something?"

Kitty and Kurt exchanged glances before grabbing onto the sides of the car for support, their sides aching as they fell into peals of laughter.

"What?" Scott questioned again, oblivious to the source of their mirth, "What's so funny?"

"Not too preoccupied, are ve, Scott?"

"Yeah," Kitty gasped between giggles, ""What were you thinking about anyways?"

"Oh, I could think of something, or should I say someone?" Kurt teased, causing Scott's cheeks to burn and sending Kitty into a fresh wave of laughter.

"All right, you've had your fun," Scott spoke in what he hoped was a lighthearted tone, "Now lay off."

"So, what's up with you and Jean anyway?" Kitty questioned curiously, ignoring his warning as she repositioned her backpack between her feet.

"Nothing," Scott blurted quickly, "We're just friends . . . like we've always been." He added quietly, his trademark stoic expression shielding his emotions.

Kitty opened her mouth to speak again, but Kurt nudged her sharply in the side, silently shaking his head. Leaning across Kitty, Kurt switched on the radio in hopes of lightening the mood, yet Scott remained quiet, sulking beneath his impassive demeanor.

= = =

By half past four, Jean had reduced herself to impatiently drumming her fingers on the polished desktop, staring blankly out the window, and doodling meaningless pictures along the margins of her notebook. She knew that mention of National Honors Society on her resume would appeal to most colleges, but she yearned for the chance to stretch her muscles on the soccer field. She lived for the adrenaline a soccer game seemed to provide, the thrill of racing up and down the field with the ball in control. Heaving a heavy sigh, Jean's eyes trailed to the window, instantly searching out the soccer players – her teammates – amongst the teeming crowd of dedicated athletes. Her teammates jumped and cheered as Sandy made a high assist across the field, leaving Taryn to head the ball into the goal. Jean could feel her muscles screaming for action as Taryn cart wheeled across the field in celebration.

Trying to rid herself of the cramped feeling in her muscles, Jean shook her head, sending a rippling veil of lustrous hair cascading down her back. Studying the crisp sheet of notebook paper she'd been taking notes on earlier, Jean's fingers itched to feel the grip of a pen between them. Sketching lightly, a rough profile began to etch its way onto her paper; a strong chin, straight nose, and a less than prominent forehead crept out from beneath her pen, followed by long, shaggy bangs and lips quirked into a smile. Her hand flew as if it had a mind of its own, adding adjustments along the cheek, creases to the forehead, and laugh lines around the lips, but, oddly enough, her pen steered clear of the middle of the face, perfecting every aspect of the nose, cheeks, forehead, and lips, but never adding a singly stroke to represent the eyes.

"Jean, Jean!" The rapt voice called Jean to attention, jolting her from her artistic reverie.

Jean looked up, cheeks flushed in embarrassment as the NHS president, Rachel, eyed her curiously. "Sorry," Jean smiled apologetically, "It's been a long day, I guess I just . . . spaced out."

Rachel nodded in understanding, "Yeah, it's been a tough year; you've got to stop working yourself so hard. You're going to burn yourself out before you even begin to study for exams."

"Thanks, Rachel, I'll keep that in mind." Jean smiled gratefully as Rachel nodded, following the rest of the crowd out of the room. Shuffling her papers back into her binder, jean caught sight of the sketch she'd drawn beneath her notes. A familiar face, void of eyes, smiled back at her. The face looked so familiar, Jean felt as though she should know the boy. Before she could pin down the face in her memory, a light thumping from the other side of the classroom window drew her attention away from the drawing.

The bare-chested boys' varsity track team sprinted past the window, sweating profusely as they each tried to show-up the others in their last minute of practice. Jean watched, transfixed, as well-sculpted boys ranging from immeasurably fast freshmen to determined seniors ran past, no sparing a glance to the classroom window. A flash of crimson sparked in the corner of Jean's eye. Turning her head, Jean's heart gave a pleasant jolt as Scott ran past the window, his cheeks flushed from exertion, hair matted to his head with sweat as he past several other runners, pulling himself to the lead of the pack. A slight smile curled involuntarily at the corner of Jean's lips as she gazed down at her sketch, and with one last glance out the window, she slowly began to draw in a pair of shades.

= = =

_**Please Review!!!**_


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey Everyone!!! Thanks for all the great reviews! I'm sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up, but school's just started and between cross-country practice and homework I haven't had much time to update. They seem to be really intent on piling on homework this year, so chapters may either take quite awhile or be really short. . . I hope that doesn't discourage any of you though!! Thanks for understanding!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, Marvel and them own it all . . . with the exception of "Roll to Me" which belongs to Del Amitri.

"normal speaking"

'Telepathically speaking'

_Thinking_

Late afternoon sun blazed down on the tired athletes of Bayville High, the suffocating air hanging heavy on their backs. Raising her hand to her brow, Jean shielded her eyes from the sun, searching the crowd for a familiar face. Her eyes grazed the sea of heads until they landed on Scott Summers diligently helping the coach to stack hurdles. 'Sco-ott,' she trickled his name across his mind in a sing-song voice, causing him to look up in confusion. She was about to raise her arm in greeting when Taryn Fujioka appeared at her side, the creases in her brow glistening with sweat.

"Hey, Jean, we missed you at practice today." It was phrased more as a question than a statement.

"NHS," Jean answered, rolling her eyes in annoyance, "I'd have rather practiced but," she shrugged, "you know my parents."

Taryn's brow furrowed and she was about to respond that no, she'd never actually met the Greys, but her thoughts were interrupted as Duncan Matthews approached, slipping his arms around Jean from behind. Taking her cue from the quarterback, Taryn cheerfully excused herself and headed for the girls' locker room, leaving Jean alone with her boyfriend.

"Hey, Jean," he twirled her around to face him, smiling at her pleased expression. "I'm heading out to Jason's party with the guys, you want to come?"

"The party's tonight?" Jean did her best to force a look of surprise, "Oh, Duncan, I can't, I've got a test in AP physics tomorrow that I need to study fore, I'm sorry." She lied smoothly, the thought of a party still tormenting her mind. She'd enjoyed parties, once, but after one every weekend following games during the football season, she'd become thoroughly sick of the repetitive scene; dancing to poorly chosen music, declining the numerous beers she was offered, trailing after Duncan like a prized piece of arm candy, jean Grey had had enough parties to last the next few years.

"Aw, that sucks," Duncan interjected where he thought appropriate, clueless to the truth behind the lies. "Want me to take you home before I go?"

"No, it's all right," she slipped her arms around his waist, playing the innocent girlfriend counterpart to his dumb-jock. "I wouldn't want you to miss anything; I'll grab a ride with someone else."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," she nodded, smiling sweetly, "You go and have a good time."

"Alright, then," Duncan bent down, encasing Jean in a short, but sweet kiss. "Call me if you can't get a ride?"

"Of course, have a good time!" She waved him off, feeling slightly guilty about her lies. Sighing, Jean turned around only to find herself face to face with Scott. Startled, Jean jumped backwards, a stifled scream escaping her lips. "Scott Summers, don't do that!"

"Do what?" he laughed in question.

"Don't sneak up like that! You scared me!"

"But it's so much fun," he teased playfully.

"Ugh, you are hopeless!" She threw her hands in the air for emphasis.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he murmured quietly, but the look on his face told Jean that the two of them were talking about two completely different things. Before Jean could ask what he meant, however, Scott changed the subject, nodding his head in the direction Duncan had walked off to. "So, what was that all about?"

"Hmm? Oh, with Duncan? Nothing really, just telling him I couldn't make it to Jason's party."

Scott looked slightly taken aback, "Oh, why not?"

Jean bit her lip, knowing she'd never get away with lying to Scott, he knew her too well. "Honestly? I'm just sick of the whole party scene. I think I've been to enough parties to last me a lifetime."

"Not enjoying your ever growing popularity?" Scott couldn't resist teasing.

"Oh, shut-up, Summers!" Jean smacked him playfully with her binder. "You know I'm not in to that whole popularity thing."

Scott hesitated, that's what Jean always said and he knew that, on the surface, she believed it, but, having spent the better part of his life growing up with jean, Scott knew that, subconsciously, Jean enjoyed the attention. She hadn't been well-liked as a child, and at the command of "the group" at her old school, she'd been shunned by the majority of the students. Scott knew that Duncan asking Jean out had been one of the happiest moments in her life, and though he secretly disapproved, he'd been happy for her.

"So," Jean broke the tense silence, trying to dismiss the shadow of doubt lingering over Scott's countenance. "Is the offer for the ride still open?"

"I assume that's what you called me over for?" he smiled as she nodded, happy for the distraction, "Yeah, of course. Just let me hit the showers and we'll go."

Even as they stepped into his car ten minutes later, Scott was still dwelling on Jean's dismissive comment about her views of popularity. Being accepted at Bayville had always meant a lot to her, even if it meant hiding her true self. Jean needed to be accepted. Anytime Scott had mentioned that the students of the Institute accepted her for who she really was and not what she appeared to be, she'd shoot him an angry look, muttering "that's different." Her position in the world meant everything to Jean, and Scott couldn't help but wonder if she could accept someone who'd bring her down on the social scale. Would he ever be good enough for her?

Scott was dimly aware of Jean flipping through radio stations as they inched their way through rush-hour traffic. "Ooh, I love this song!" she squealed excitedly, finally relenting her intense channel surfing engagement. Scott chanced a glance out the corner of his eye. The wind toyed with Jean's hair, teasing it strand by strand out of her tight ponytail, sending it flying haphazardly in all angles. Her cheeks were flushed from the thrill of hearing her song over the radio. She danced unabashedly in the seat beside him, throwing her head back and laughing along with the song.

"_Look around your world, pretty baby,_

_Is it everything you hoped it would be?_

_The wrong guy, the wrong situation,_

_The right time to roll to me . . ."_

A slight smile quirked upwards on the corner of his lips as he turned his attention back to driving.

"What?" Jean questioned, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

"Hmm?"

"What are you smirking at?" she demanded.

"I'm not smirking."

She rolled her eyes, "Fine, then what are you smiling at?"

"Nothing, really, you just look so cute when you dance like that," he replied somewhat nonchalantly, as though his reply had come from somewhere other than his logical mind.

Jean felt the heat rising to her cheeks, but instead of retorting, she merely murmured her thanks, a small smile creeping along her face. Usually she would have told Scott to stop pretending to be so nice, and the conversation would have escalated into a heated argument that served as a confidence booster for both of them. But today she was content to let it rest as it was, and accept the compliment Scott had been trying to pay her for years.

_**Please Review!!!**_


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Aite, it's been a while...school's killing me and I was foolish enough to attempt two fanfics at the same time...but here it is, the latest chapter of "The Boy Next Door" I don't particularly like the majority of the chapter, I'm having major issues with it, but I hope it's enough to keep you all interested!

**Disclaimer**: I own absolutely nothing except for any changes to the plot that you don't recognize.

"Normal speaking"

'telepathically speaking'

_thoughts_

! : ! : !

"Oh, really? No, he didn't! He _did?_" Jean twirled the coiled phone cord in her fingers, chatting amiably with Taryn who'd just returned from Jason's party. Jean wasn't particularly interested in what all had happened at the party, but it was either talk with Taryn or contemplate the inner workings of her tangled mind. She chose the phone call.

Falling back on her plush bed, Jean's vibrant hair splayed over the starch white pillow. Making all the appropriate comments and sounds of consent or astonishment where she felt they were needed, Jean allowed her mind to slowly stray from the dwindling conversation. As pointless as these conversations often seemed, Jean craved the ecstatic thrill of teenage normalcy.

When the Professor had first announced that she and Scott would be attending Bayville High, Jean had felt an overwhelming surge of hope. Like the first blank page of a spiraled notebook, Bayville was a fresh start for Jean, a chance to rewrite the story of her life, crafting it into the intricate life she'd always dreamed of rather than the pitiful mess she'd previously believed it to be. And she had succeeded. Jean had managed to hide the aspects of her life that set her apart from "normal" students, crafting herself into the perfect girl atop the school's scale of social hierarchy. And, for the most part, she'd loved every minute of it, but lately she'd begun to feel that something was missing from her dream; something that left her hollow and aching inside.

"Oh, I wish I could have gone! Trust Mr. Ginter to give us a test the day after Jason's party." She complained into the phone, earning a sympathetic response from Taryn. "Ah, well, I should probably go, no sense having skipped the party if I'm going to miss out on needed sleep because I was chatting on the phone . . . yeah, no, don't worry, I'll definitely be at Duncan's next weekend . . . Scott? Well, I suppose . . . oh, you want to talk to him now? He's probably in his room . . . well, all right then, I'll put you on hold, 'kay?" Jean chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she gently slipped the phone back into its cradle. For reasons she couldn't explain, Jean had half the mind to tell Taryn Scott was unavailable without even checking with him first, but the pang of guilt within her was stronger than her instincts; it was only fair to let Scott decide if he wanted to talk to Taryn.

'Scott?' she reached out to him mentally, fighting the urge to personally deliver the message to his room.

'Yeah, Jean?' the reply was faint, but not faint enough for her to miss the eagerness lining his voice.

'Taryn's on hold for you,' she stated flatly.

'Oh . . . okay, thanks,' was it just her imagination, Jean wondered, or had she caught the slightest hint of disappointment in Scott's voice? Letting her link with him drop, Jean flung herself back on her bed once more, trying to push away the ideas that had bothered her since her ride home from school. Why did she suddenly feel so jealous of Taryn? True, she'd never believed her so-called best friend was good enough for Scott, her true best friend, but she'd been nothing of supportive of their relationship. Why was it bothering her now? And why did the thought of seeing him in the sanctity of his room send shivers trailing down her spine? _I'm going out with Duncan!_ She shrieked inside her mind, attempting to bring an end to the ambivalence of her thoughts. _So why do I suddenly feel so unsure?_

! : ! : !

Scott had been lying in bed, reading, when Jean's voice trickled tantalizingly across his mind. 'Scott?'

'Yeah, Jean?' He answered, instantly cursing himself for sounding so eager.

'Taryn's on hold for you,'

'Oh . . . okay, thanks.' Jean severed their mental bond, and Scott heaved a heavy sigh, reluctantly rolling over to grasp the phone.

"Hello?" he answered tentatively, bracing himself for the bubbling exuberance he was sure would follow.

"Scott? Hey, it's Taryn!" Taryn promptly squealed on the other end.

"Oh, hey, Taryn, what's up?"

"Oh, nothing really. I just got back from Jason's party; why weren't you there?"

_Uh, 'cause I wasn't invited?_ He thought bitterly, "Oh, I just wasn't in the mood for a party."

"I spent half the night looking for you; it really wasn't fun without you."

"I'm sure you had a great time without me," Scott smiled into the phone, wondering why that fact didn't bother him more. Shouldn't a guy be disturbed that his girlfriend could have a perfectly good time without him?

"Well, I know I won't be able to stand another party without you, will you go to Duncan's with me on Saturday?" Taryn questioned sweetly, pouting on the other end.

"Um . . . I don't' know . . ." he hesitated, searching his mind for a reason as to why he couldn't go.

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun," she wheedled, "you know Duncan throws great parties, and _everyone_ will be there."

Finding no plausible excuse, Scott sighed, "I guess."

"Really?" Taryn squealed excitedly, "Great! Okay, well, I'll see you in school tomorrow and we can work out the details then, 'kay?"

"Okay,"

"Great! G'night, Scott!"

"Night," he whispered into the receiver, waiting for the sound of a dial tone before he hung up.

_Why did I agree to go to Matthews' party?_ He instantly questioned himself, burying his face into his pillow.

_Because _everyone_ will be there,_ another voice snickered inside his head in perfect imitation of Taryn.

_So?_ He argued with himself, _Since when have I cared what everyone else is doing?_

_Jean will be there_, the voice prodded bluntly.

Jean. As much as Scott hated to admit it, she consumed the majority of his thoughts these days. Each time his eyes met hers, he heart turned over in his chest while his stomach squirmed pleasantly, and each time they made the slightest contact, shivers swept across his skin. Jean was like a song he couldn't get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried; no amount of endless dates with Taryn or flirtations giggles from the girls in study hall could ever compare to what he felt for Jean. The more fool he, for not being able to express his feelings when he had the chance. He had had so many perfect opportunities - after he'd brought her back from her power surge, after he'd almost lost himself on Asteroid M and she'd told him she didn't want to be in his life if he'd so carelessly throw it away, when she'd first approached him before the Sadie's dance – he ticked off the moments in his mind, reprimanding himself for all the lost chances. Each time he had failed to come to terms with his emotions, dismissing them as infatuation or a childish crush. But now, more than ever, he'd realized he'd fallen for Jean Grey, and he'd fallen hard.

A soft knock on his door drew him from his silent reverie.

"Come in," he mumbled, his face muffled against his pillow.

"Scott?" A melodic voice questioned hesitantly.

Upon hearing Jean's voice, Scott quickly attempted to roll right-side up, only to roll off his bed in the process. "Ouch," he groaned as his body hit the floor with a thud.

"Oh, God, are you all right?" Jean was at his side in an instant, curling her arms about his and helping him to his feet.

"I'm fine," he waved her off, terrified by how much his body craved her touch. "What's up?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if I could borrow that book you were reading earlier, the Stephen King one?"

"Pet Sematary?" His jaw dropped in surprise as she nodded. "Yeah, sure, I just finished it." He picked the book up from beside his pillow and, holding it to her, questioned incredulously, "You're not planning on reading it _now_ are you?"

She shrugged, "Sure, why not?"

"No reason, really, I just don't think it's the type of book you should read before bed."

"_You_ were reading it," she stated pointedly.

Scott squirmed under her glare, "I know . . . I just don't think that you should . . ."

"Scott Summers, you are so sexist! If you can handle it, then so can I!" She retorted haughtily.

"I'm not sexist; I just don't think that you should . . ." he trailed off, growing more uncomfortable under her gaze. "Never mind, just take it."

"Thanks," she flashed him a victorious smile before slinking out of the room and slamming the door behind her.

Shaking his head at her obstinacy and his quick surrender, Scott flicked of his light, silently questioning himself as to why he always fell apart around Jean. "God, Summers, how pathetic can you get?" And with that bit of pessimism lingering on is mind, he slowly began to drift to sleep.

! : ! : !

"If you can handle it, then so can I," Jean repeated in a taunting tone, berating herself for once again letting her temper get the best of her. "Why can't I ever just put my pride aside and listen to Scott?"

Knees pulled tight to her chest, arms wrapped about her knees, Jean rocked herself back and forth in the middle of her bed, trying to summon up the courage to get off her bed and turn off her light. As much as she hated to admit it, Jean hadn't been able to read too far into the book, her fear getting the better of her. "Why didn't I listen to Scott?" She moaned once again. _Pet Sematary _had terrified her, more than she'd probably ever admit. It wasn't as though she couldn't stomach horror stories, she was perfectly capable of that, she'd just been so daft as to read one in the dead of night when unprecedented scenarios could creep across her open mind. During the day the story wouldn't have frightened her at all, as there were so many other things to distract her attention span, but at night she was alone with her thoughts.

"Okay, Jean," she murmured to herself, trying to calm her racing heartbeat, "It's just a fictional story, none of that can really happen, _people don't come back from the dead._" As her heartbeat slowed, she took deep relaxing breaths, tugging her mind away from unrealistic nightmares and back into the real world.

Just as she'd begun to slip under her covers, preparing to lull herself to sleep, a powerful gust of wind tugged on the shutters, slamming them shut against her window as it howled through the trees. Fear seeped into the corners of her mind, restoring all the terrifying ideas the book had originated. "That's it," she muttered, shredding her last bit of pride, "I am so out of here." Grabbing her pillow, Jean jumped off her bed and tore out of her room down the hall, not even pausing to knock on Scott's door as she barreled in. Pausing to let her eyes grow adjusted to the dimness of the room, Jean whispered meekly into the darkness, "Scott?"

When she received no response, Jean bit her bottom lip and strode across the room, coming to a stop beside Scott's bed, and gently began to shake his shoulder. "Scott?"

"Hmm, uh, Jean? Is that you?" His voice was groggy, as though he'd been roused from a deep sleep.

_He probably had_, Jean thought, suddenly feeling horrible for waking him.

"Jean? What's wrong?" His voice was sharper now, as he noticed the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

"Nothing, I'm just scared," she sniffled, bracing herself, waiting for him to gloat, but that moment never came. Instead, Scott simply took her in his arms and gently began to rock her back and forth.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," he murmured into her hair, "You're safe now, I'd never let anything happen to you."

The sincerity of his statement touched Jean's heart in a way she never would have imagined. Slowly, she began to relax, melting into his embrace. "I-is it all right if I stay here?" She whispered.

"Of course," he relaxed his grip on her, pulling her around to face him, "Here, you can have my bed and I'll move to the . . ."

"No," she whispered with such force Scott was afraid he'd done something wrong, "I mean, please, stay up here with me."

"All right, then," he answered somewhat uncertainly, pulling back the covers so that she could climb in with him.

She squirmed beneath the sheets, pressing her back against Scott's chest as he wrapped his arms around her. She was amazed by how perfectly she fit into his arms, _Why haven't I noticed this before?_ "Thank you," she whispered drowsily.

"For what?"

"For always being so nice, for not gloating, for this . . ." she trailed off as a yawn overcame her.

"What else would you have had me do?" He whispered back, his breath tickling her ears.

Jean shrugged into his shoulders, shaking her head, causing him to laugh as her hair tickled his face. "Good night, Slim."

"Sweet Dreams, Red."

Jean smiled at the childhood nickname, yawning again, surprised by how tired she suddenly felt. Scott was the only person who could make her feel this safe, the only person who could make her feel like she truly meant something to this world. Smiling, the image of Scott's face was the last thing she saw before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

! : ! : !

**A/N:** And in reading the "Power Surge" transcript, I now realize that soccer and track are, apparently, at different times at Bayville, though in most schools they are during the same season so we're just going to overlook that minor flaw, 'kay?

_**Please Review!!!**_


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Okay, I know some of you would like Scott and Jean to just confess their feelings and get together, and I'd like to tell you that they'll just realize their flaws straight away, but to quote _Peter Pan_ "then there would be no story."

**Disclaimer**: I own absolutely nothing except for any changes to the plot that you don't recognize.

"Normal speaking"

'telepathically speaking'

_thoughts_

! : ! : !

Beams of sunlight danced across the blue coverlet, tiptoeing playfully over Jean's eyelids. Cracking open one eye, she nestled deeper into Scott's chest, blocking her face from the light. Once again she was amazed by how perfectly her small frame fit into his form, almost as though they were made to be together . . .

Scott felt his stomach tense as Jean burrowed her face into his chest, breathing the heavy scent of his laundered clothes. Gently, so as not to wake her, he slipped his arms around her, embracing her slim body. Fingers playing on the hem of her night-shirt, he softly pressed his face into her hair, inhaling the sweetness of her shampoo. Smiling slightly, he kissed the crown of her forehead, his lips lingering in her hair. He knew she was just here for support, for someone to hold her while she was scared; to embrace their friendship, but Scott couldn't help feeling as though maybe something good would come from this. True, once she woke she'd stumble back to her room and never breathe a word of Scott's comforting to anyone, but for now, she was his . . .

Jean smiled in spite of herself as she felt Scott's lips brush her forehead; he didn't know she was awake. He was so protective of her, she almost giggled as his hands gently caressed her back. She knew he'd be mortified if he knew she was awake, so she lay there as still as she could manage, indulging in the peacefulness of Scott's arms. She knew she should get up soon, that the professor and Logan would be calling them for school, but for now she would live in the moment. Jean felt that what she was doing was wrong; somewhere inside of her she knew she shouldn't be here, but another thought playfully tickled her mind. _What if we _are_ meant to be?_

! : ! : !

"I don't see what the big deal is! I told you that I'd get a ride home with someone else and you seemed fine with it, so I did."

"The big deal is that you went home with Summers!"

"Yeah, I went home with Scott, it seemed like the logical choice, we live in the same flippin' building!" Jean was losing her temper now, and her voice was slightly rising with each word, oblivious to the stares she was receiving.

"I don't care, get Sandy or Taryn to take you next time, I don't want you riding with Summers again." Duncan's steely gray gaze was fixed on her blushing cheeks.

"Duncan! Scott's my _best_ friend; I'm not going to stop hanging out with him just because _you_ say so!"

"And why not?" Now Duncan was angry as well, "_I'm_ your boyfriend, not him. Besides, I've seen the way Summers looks at you, I don't need you to make is ambition to steal you away from me any easier!"

_What is Duncan talking about?_ "Scott and I are just friends, Duncan! Stop being so paranoid!" _If we're just friends, why am I blushing?_

"I don't _care_, Jean, I want you to stay away from him!

"No," she whispered fiercely, her suppressed rage beginning to envelope her logical reason.

Duncan's hands tightened around her arms, furious to her answer.

"Stop it, Duncan, you're hurting me!"

"No, not until you promise to stay way from Summers!"

"Duncan!" Jean gasped, surprised by the pain soaring through her arms. _They've got to be bruising, what will Scott say when he sees my arms? What if he connects it to Duncan? That'll only create more animosity between them._

Almost as soon as she'd had the thought, a fist came flying out of nowhere, and the next thing Jean knew she had slipped to the floor, opening her eyes to see Duncan sailing backward into a wall of lockers. Strong arms embraced jean, easing her to her feet.

"Are you all right?" Scott whispered, concern lilting his voice. "Did he hurt you?"

His soft breathing warmed her face and her heart began to beat erratically, suddenly all too aware of how close they were standing. She pulled her hands out of his and took a step backwards, feeling as though all her breath would be stolen from her lungs if she didn't' distance herself from Scott. "I'm fine," she muttered shortly, brushing off her jeans.

Scott looked down the hall, his gaze trailing where Duncan had stormed off. "Jean-"

"Scott," she cut him off, "Drop it, okay?"

He frowned deeply at the sudden malice in Jean's usually optimistic tone. He tried to open his mind to her, hoping she'd send him some emotion, hoping she'd let him on to what was bothering her, but he met nothing but a void of silence. "Jean," he murmured, only slightly ashamed of the hurt evident in his voice. But she just shook her head and turned down the hall, leaving him to stare blankly after her.

! : ! : !

Stretching her mind out, Jean glanced up and down the hallway. It was four p.m. and she had managed to avoid both Scott and Duncan all day, opting to sit with Rachel and her friends form NHS rather tan endure a lunch hour with sullen X-men or gossipy cheerleaders. She'd even managed to catch a ride home with Lance and Kitty rather than either of the two men that irked her most. Neither she, nor Lance, were too pleaded about the arrangement, but jean wasn't about to pass up the opportunity, and Lance was all too willing to oblige to Kitty's request. So fifteen minutes and a headache's worth of heavy rock music later, Jean made it safely to her room, undetected.

She was just about to begin her calc. homework, when someone knocked cheerfully on her door. "Come in, Kitty."

"Hey, Jean," the freshman bounced in happily, "Can I borrow some lip liner? I accidentally left mine in the sun and it's totally melted. I'd ask Rogue, but, y'know, it'd probably be all black or purple or something, which is all right for some, but-" the girl shuddered.

"Go right ahead," Jean laughed, waving her to her vanity drawer, "Take your pick. Oh, by the way, thanks for the ride today. I hope Lance wasn't too mad about it."

"He'll get over it," Kitty waved her hand dismissively, scanning through a draw of brightly colored lipsticks. "Besides, you looked like you needed someone to rescue you."

Jean gave a wry smile, turning her eyes back to her worksheet, but her eyes continued scanning the same sentences, never comprehending it.

"What's wrong?" Kitty crossed the room and took a seat beside Jean on the bed.

"Nothing," Jean answered quickly, shuffling papers as she sat up.

"Yeah," Kitty murmured softly, "but nothing's right either, is it?"

Jean glanced to the side, silently appraising the girl. "When did you become so deep?"

"Oh, I've always been deep," Kitty scoffed, trying to hide her laughter, "I just use the ditzy cover-up so that the rest of you don't bombard me with pleas for advice."

Kitty spoke so sincerely that Jean couldn't help but laugh. Kitty was so pleased to see Jean out of her miserable state that she lapsed into giggles as well.

"Seriously, though," Kitty straightened her face, trying once again not to smile, "I'm here if you need to talk."

"Thanks, Kitty," Jean smiled, "I'll keep that in mind."

"No problem-o," she jumped off the bed, giving a short wave. "I'll see you later."

"Bye, Kitty," Jean whispered s her door gently shut. The soft click of the door's bolt sliding into place made Jean shudder, an overwhelming feeling of apprehension washing over her. Why did she suddenly feel as though a part of her life was ending?

! : ! : !

Groaning, Jean rolled over to consult her luminescent alarm clock. 12:04. She'd been trying to sleep for two hours now, using all the remedies she recalled from her childhood; reading until her eyes were too tired to move anymore, reciting all the state capitals in alphabetical order backwards, warm milk, yet sleep did not feel the need to grace her with its presence. Muttering incoherently, she rose to her feet and dressed in a thick pair of boots, black cargo pants, and a midnight blue hoody. Pulling the hood over her vibrant red hair, she crossed to her balcony window, surveying all possible ways of descending to the ground. She knew she could always use her telekinesis to lower herself, but she wanted to do this the "normal way". She wanted to escape into the night and forget that she was Jean Grey, second in command of the X-men, straight A student at Bayville high, MVP of the varsity soccer team, girlfriend of Duncan Matthews, and best friend of Scott Summers. Tonight she wanted to just be Jean, the seventeen-year-old on a verge of a mental break down, a typical teen filled with stress who wanted to run until she had no strength left in her legs, who just wanted to escape her life, if only for an hour or two.

Reaching out, she allowed her fingers to grasp the thick vines that had entwined themselves about the drainpipe. Using each new stem of the vine as rungs of a ladder, she carefully climbed down the wall, every now and then using the drainpipe for support. The soft squelch of her boots against the damp grass sent satisfying shivers up her spine, for the first time in her life she felt as though she'd truly accomplished something worth celebrating. A small smirk curled about her lips, if only the Institute could see her now. Good little Jean Grey had successfully snuck out, and she was relishing her new freedom. _Why haven't I ever tried this before?_

Crossing to the garage, she deftly dialed the code that allowed her access to the Institutes many vehicles. Her eyes trailed across the choices before her. X-van? Too bulky. Scott's car? Too conspicuous. Jamie's bike? Not likely. Logan's motorcycle? She didn't have a death wish. Finally her eyes landed on a small motorbike in the corner, tucked neatly between discarded bicycles and old security systems. It was one of Logan's older motorcycles, one that he'd eventually out grown and discarded when he purchased his new red one. (A/N: I'm having a mental block and can't remember which motorcycle came first, red or blue, so I'm just going to assume it was the blue.) He still wouldn't be too happy with her if she took out his old baby, but if she brought it back unscathed, would he even notice? Her fingers traced the deep blue chrome covering, fingering the corrugated groove where his claws had made contact with the bike. She could easily operate such a simple machine, and the fire in her veins made her body ache in anticipation. She needed to go now, before she lost all her nerve. Making up her mind, she swung her leg over the bike and gently revved the engine, praying that the sound wouldn't wake any of the Institute residents. Luckily for her, Logan had spent so much time tuning his bike that it purred softly beneath her touch. A determined glint flashing in her eyes, she stepped on the gas and sped off into the night.

! : ! : !

**A/N: **So, Jean may have been a bit out of character, but you have to understand she's not quite sure what to think of anything any more. She just needs to escape her life.

_**Please Review!!!**_

_**DOJ**_


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Hey, sorry it's been so long since I last updated. I could give you countless excuses about theater practice 'till six every night and the performance last weekend, but I have a feeling no one really wants to hear it. I'm going to Thailand next week to help fix up some orphanages for kids with AIDs, so it may be a while before the next chapter's posted, I hope this is good enough until then!

"normal speaking"

'Telepathically speaking'

_Thinking_

! : ! : !

The roar of a motorcycle snapped Scott from his dreamless sleep. Logan's cherried-out bike wouldn't have disturbed anyone else, he knew, but after years of living blindly on the street his other senses had become unusually perceptive.

_It's probably just Logan off on one of his "personal missions,"_ he thought groggily, but even as the idea crossed his tired mind a stronger feeling nagged his gut instinct. Expecting to see nothing more than Logan riding off into the darkness, Scott swung his feet over the side of his bed and over to the window. Much to his surprise, the figure fiddling with the bike was slightly taller than Logan, with a much slimmer frame. As Scott watched, the figure straddled the bike while they attempted to fasten a helmet over their dark hood. Finally surrendering to the obstinate will of the helmet, the figure pushed back the hood, revealing shocking strands of red hair painted auburn by the darkness. Scott let out a low moan, and as the figure deftly kicked the motorcycle into gear, he swore beneath his breath. "Where are you running to, Jean?"

! : ! : !

Pebbles stung Jean's legs through her heavy sweats as she came to a screeching stop. Turning the key in the ignition, Jean felt momentarily deaf as a buzzing silence replaced the steady hum of Logan's motorcycle. Jean took in a calming breath of fresh air, stretching her arms wide as she crossed to the barrier at the edge of the clearing, embracing the full moon. From the first night her parents had transferred her to Bayville she'd fallen in love with its scenic overlook. Hovering over the whole city, the overlook was a small clearing – just big enough to fit three cars across – surrounded by a closing of trees that turned breathtaking hues during autumn, and sported sugar-pink blossoms in the spring.

_But the colors and view aren't the only appeal, are they, Jean?_ A mischievous voice nagged in the back of her head, _It wouldn't have anything to do with the first time you visited the clearing, would it?_ As the thought flashed through her mind, Jean felt herself unwillingly spiraling into her memories of her first night in Bayville.

_--Flashback--_

"_John, do you really think it's safe to leave Jean with these . . . people?" Though Elaine Grey whispered covertly to her husband, her thought still trickled across Jean's mind, sending shivers down the young girl's spine._

"_Elaine, we _know_ Charles Xavier. I know him well enough that I'd trust him with my life. You liked him well enough when he still taught with me at the university, why the sudden uncertainties?"_

"_Yes, well, that was before . . ." Elaine trailed off, meeting Jean's eyes in the rearview mirror. _Before he was a mutant.

_John's eyes flicked to the mirror long enough to catch the terror on Jean's face. _Good Lord, we're terrifying poor Jeannie.

_The unspoken words of her parents faded in and out of Jean's mind, as though someone was repeatedly tuning a radio, unable to decide on one station long enough to hear the full song. Sinking lower in her seat, she placed her chin on her hand and stared out the window at the passing trees, trying her hardest not to cry. _Mom and Dad only want what's best for you._ She tried reasoning with herself, _They would never deliberately put you in harm. They love you._ Though the thought should be comforting, it only succeeded in sending waves of chills through her body. _If they love me then why are they leaving me!_ She blinked her eyes furiously against the tears that threatened to spill out, refusing to reason with herself any longer. All she wanted was to curl up in her mother's arms and fall into a deep dreamless sleep. All she wanted was to wake-up and realize this horrible nightmare had only been a dream. No one could actually read minds, could they? But somehow, Jean knew this wasn't a simple figment of her imagination. Somewhere, deep inside, Jean knew that no matter what choices she had made in her past, fate would always have led her down this road._

"_Sweetheart, Jean," a rough hand gave Jean's shoulder a gentle shake, "Honey, we're here." Jean opened her bleary eyes and glanced around. Sometime, while she dwelled deep within her thoughts, she had succumbed to the sleep that had been denied to her since she'd first learned of her mutation. She's slept during the last hours she had alone with her parents, and she silently berated herself over this feat. _

_Unbuckling, Jean peered out from her window, laying eyes for the first time on the Xavier Institute. The second-story mansion stretched wide across rolling acres of lush green land. The drive curled around a fountain supporting an angel with her arms open to the heavens, and a romantic-looking gazebo stood in the corner. Under any other circumstances, Jean felt she may have fallen in love with the spacious Institute, but that word merely reminded her of why she was here. She was being placed in an Institution, away from her parents, away from her sister, away from her friends, from anyone she knew or loved. She was being sent to live with complete strangers. _

_John Grey gripped his daughter's trembling hand as he helped Jean out of the car. After casting a worried glance to his daughter, he raised a hand as in greeting, calling out a cheery, "Charles!"_

_Taking her eyes off the breathtaking landscape, Jean noticed a three people standing on the landing before the mansion doors. _No, not people,_ she thought bitterly, _mutants._ She hung back behind her mother as her Dad clasped hands with Charles Xavier, an energetic man in a wheelchair, and exchanged pleasantries with the other two adults there, Ororo Munroe and Logan, she soon learned. Much to Jean's surprise, a young boy about her age mirrored her cautious expression, hanging back behind Ororo as introductions made their rounds. _He looks almost as scared as I am_, she thought, brow furrowing in confusion, _why should_ he_ be scared?

"_. . . this is my daughter, Jean." Jean looked up as she heard her name, "Jean, this is Charles, Ororo, Logan, and Scott. Scott's your age," her father smiled suggestively, but Jean merely frowned. She knew her father would be thrilled for her to make a friend her own age at the Institute, he believed it would make moving in easier for her, but Jean was determined not to make friends with another mutant. She'd seen the way her mother looked at Scott, like he was some kind of freak; Jean wouldn't let her mother look at her that same way. Maybe . . . maybe if she acted normal, became friends with normal kids, maybe her mother could overlook her mutation, maybe things would go back to normal._

_Three hours had passed since her arrival at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children, and Jean was becoming bored with the dull talk of the school and the proposed arrangements. Scott had already taken her on a tour of the Institute while the adults talked, and they'd trashed the Institutes small supply of videos, finding no movie that suited both their desires. Despite her original decision to avoid beginning a friendship with the boy, Scott had somehow worn down her defenses. They'd avoided breaching the subject of the real reason they were here, but had found many of other shared interests to talk about, especially their shared interest in soccer and reading. _

_Jean lay sprawled across a couch while Scott gazed at her intently from his place in a chair, at least, Jean thought he was gazing at her, it was difficult to tell with the sunglasses covering his eyes. "Why do you wear those?" She found herself questioning, nodding towards his shades. _

"_Do you really want to know?"_

"_Why wouldn't I?"_

"_Because it would mean admitting why you're here," he murmured quietly._

_Jean fell silent, did she want to know? Scott was right, it would mean she'd have to admit that there was something wrong with her, that she might actually have to live at the Institute, that her act of normalcy would fall. But for some reason, she felt compelled to know Scott's secrets. There was an elusive air about him that drew her to him, and left her wanting to know more. The feeling scared Jean, she didn't want to be friends with a mutant, but somehow, when she was with Scott, she forgot about her genetic enhancement, and for the first time in her life, she felt accepted for her she was. "Yes," she whispered, meeting his eyes with hers, "I'd like to know, if you want to tell me."_

_Scott considered for a moment, before rising from his chair and grasping her wrist, "C'mon, there's some place I want to take you."_

_Ten minutes of begging for forgiveness and a twenty minute bike ride later, Jean found herself standing in the clearing overlooking Bayville for the first time. Crimson leaves swirled around her, dancing on the wind. The thousands of stars in the crystal clear night sky meshed with the twinkling lights of the city below. "It's beautiful," she murmured, eyes wide in wonderment. _

"_You have no idea," Scott agreed. Though his shades appeared to be facing the view, Jean had the strangest feeling that the eyes behind them weren't looking at the city at all. She felt flames rising to her cheeks and quickly looked away, her eyes landing on a sturdy oak tree. _

"_Ever climbed it?" She asked._

"_The tree?" He seemed taken aback by the swift subject change, "Sure, I like to come here to think."_

"_Are you here a lot?"_

"_Enough that Ororo knows that if she can't find me at the Institute I'm here." Scott paused as Jean nodded in understanding. "So, you're sure you want to know what my . . . mutation is?" He glanced at her quickly, watching her face for any reaction._

_She grimaced a bit at the word, but nodded resolutely, "Yes, unless you truly don't want to." He hesitated, fingers resting on the corner of his glasses, "Why are you so afraid?"_

_Scott threw her an embarrassed grin, "I've never really had a real friend before; I don't want to scare you away."_

_Jean blushed at his words, _He already considers me a friend?_ She'd been so focused on not becoming friends with him, she'd never considered what he might think of her. _A friend . . . do I want to be his friend?_ True, Scott made her laugh, they had a lot in common, and there'd rarely been any awkward silences all evening, and they'd only met three hours before. _

_Noticing the heavy silence, Scott quickly broke the silence, stumbling over his words, "I understand, of course, if you don't want to be my friend. I mean, I probably wouldn't want to be friends with a mutant and . . ." Jean through her hand over his mouth._

"_Of course I want to be your friend, Scott, but if you want to be my friend, you're going to have to trust me to make my own decisions. I'd like to see your . . . mutation, if it's okay with you."_

_A cheek-splitting grin spread across Scott's face, making Jean feel slightly guilty, she'd never had that type of power over anyone before. "Okay," Scott's fingers brushed his glasses again, "You might want to stand back." Jean quickly obeyed as Scott turned to face a rock by the side of the road. Lifting his shades, a brilliant flash of red light burst forth, shattering the rock into numerous smaller pieces. The boy quickly placed the shades back over his eyes and glanced nervously at Jean whose mouth was open in shock. "I told you you wouldn't like it," he whispered sadly._

"_How do you . . . you can't control . . .wow . . . what are they? Lasers?" Her eyes were full of awe as she stared at Scott. She'd come to the Institute, hating what she was, and yet here was Scott, void of family or friends, carrying a heavier burden than she could ever imagine. _

"_No, they're concussive blasts," a small smile quirked at the corner of Scott's lips. "C'm here," Jean obediently stepped into his open arms, wrapping his own around her. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair as she felt herself melt against him. _

"_For what?" her words were muffled by his thin t-shirt._

"_For being my friend," he answered, his face still buried in my hair._

"_And thank you," she smiled into his chest, "for being mine."_

_--End of Flashback-- _

"No, Jean," she admonished herself, blinking back tears. "You came up here to get away from it all, _not_ to think about Scott." She sank down, her back melding with the cool oak tree. Taking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and released her thoughts, dropping down the mental shields she carried everyday. Thoughts filtered in and out through her mind as they had her first day in Bayville, but tonight it wasn't because she couldn't control it, it was simply because the owners of the thoughts were moving in and out of her perceptive range. Relaxing against the tree, void of perplexing thoughts, a sudden emotion of awe washed over her. She could feel uninhibited love pouring over her in waves, warming her heart. Someone out there was happily adoring the person they loved, unrestrained by pressure and worries. Jean felt tears well in the corners of her eyes, how she envied that person, able to express their emotions without worrying about society. _'She's beautiful'_ the thought traced across her mind in tantalizing circles. The voice sounded so familiar, yet Jean couldn't place her finger on it. Where had she heard that voice before? _It's probably just someone from school, hanging out with their girlfriend,_ she realized. _After all, you are on "make-out hill."_ But despite the convincing thought, Jean knew it wasn't the truth. No one from school held that type of love inside them, at least, no one that she knew of. Yet there was someone out there, watching the girl they loved, and thinking of nothing else.

! : ! : !

Scott peered from behind the bushes, eyes tracing over Jean's slim frame. When he'd seen her pull away from the mansion, there had been no doubt in his mind of where she was heading. He'd quickly dressed and slipped down to his car, with every intention of following and confronting Jean. But now that he was here, something held him back. He knew Jean, he knew she would want to be alone. So he'd parked his car slightly down the road, hidden behind an abandoned shack. Hiking the rest of the way up to the overlook, he'd hidden in the bushes, watching Jean as she stared out over the city, apparently lost in thought. _She's beautiful_, he thought, forgetting to keep his mind guarded. Her eyes had widened, and Scott instantly reprimanded himself for being so careless, he couldn't let Jean know he was here, she'd never forgive him. He didn't know what he would do if they fought, Jean was all he had in the world. She had been his first friend, his only true friend. He got along fine with Paul, and out of all the other guys he knew, there was no one he'd rather hang out with than Kurt, but Jean possessed something more. She was beautiful, of course, he could never argue with that, and she had been his first friend, but there was still more. He felt as though Jean could see into his soul, as though she was the only person who actually understood him in the prejudicial world that they lived in. She was the only person he'd ever met who he could imagine spending his life with. And yet, there was still something more. Scott smiled, rising to his feet. Throwing one last glance behind his shoulder, Scott opened his mind, letting his emotion carry his thoughts away, no longer worried about whether or not Jean could hear. _I love you, Jean._

! : ! : !

**A/N:** Just to clear one thing up, no, Scott did not actually tell Jean he loved her. He just thought the thought unguarded as he walked back to his car. She may or may not have heard it.

_**Please Review!!!**_


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thank you all for being so patient with me, I know it's been quite awhile since I last updated. I don't particularly like this chapter (other than the beginning), it's been giving me a lot of trouble. But I do promise that this story is going somewhere. Honestly. Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews! You guys have no idea how much they mean to me!

**Disclaimer**: I own absolutely nothing except for any changes to the plot that you don't recognize.

**Warning:** This chapter gets slightly PG-13 later on. Also, I've decided to make this story slightly AU, as in . . . it's not going to end with the world discovering mutants and their powers. I think you'll understand where I'm going at the end of the chapter.

"Normal speaking"

'telepathically speaking'

_thoughts_

**XxX**

The buzz of her alarm clock roused a disgruntled Jean early the next morning, much to her displeasure. She'd returned to the mansion just as the first shades of pink began to brush the sky. It had been a long, yet satisfying night, even if she did feel slightly sleep-deprived from her late-night endeavor.

Gathering an armful of clothes, Jean staggered to the bathroom when a peculiar feeling fell over her, as if she were forgetting something. It was the same feeling she often had after waking from a pleasant dream where she knew it had been a wonderful dream yet couldn't recall a moment of it. As the first drops of water hit her face, Jean shrugged the feeling off and enjoyed her shower, knowing that if it was important, it would come to her.

30 minutes later with hair blown-dry and cover-up to hide the bags beneath her eyes, Jean meandered into the kitchen, stealing a chocolate muffin from a basket beside the stove. Dropping her school books on the kitchen table, she'd just brought the muffing o her lips when a deep voice startled her. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Nearly dropping the muffin, her eyes widened in surprise as they landed on Scott sitting on the window seat, a piece of toast in hand, and lips quirked into a smile. Why hadn't she noticed him before? "Why not?"

"Kitty just made them last night, she threatened me within an inch of my life if I told anyone they were hers. I think she wants to catch everyone unawares." There was a tenderness in his voice that nagged at Jean's memory. Where had she heard it before?

"Thanks," she smiled, dropping the muffin into the trash before moving to join him on the window seat. "So, if you've been threatened, why'd you warn me?"

He gave a shrug that was too forced to be casual. "I figured I'd save at least one person. Besides," that same tenderness filled his voice again, "You look like you've had a rough night, and I figured you could use the heads-up."

_Do I look that bad?_ Jean questioned herself. _No,_ she decided, she'd checked and rechecked her appearance before leaving her room. It was just Scott, he could always tell with her. Sometimes she was surprised she was the psychic one and not him; he was an expert at reading emotions. "Thanks," she smiled, and then she was blindsided with realization. That tender voice, it was the same one she'd heard last night. _"You look like you've had a rough night,"_ the words repeated themselves in Jean's head and she threw a furtive glance in Scott's direction. He looked wide awake and refreshed, hardly as though he'd spent the night crouching in bushes. Yet the voice had been his, hadn't it?

"Well, I should probably be going," he rose, "you need a ride?"

"Sure, thanks," she thankfully accepted the hand he held out to her as he lifted her to her feet. Following Scott out of the room, Jean smiling shook her head. This was Scott, her Scott, he didn't love her anymore than he had the day they met. Her smile faded into a frown and was surprised to find that suddenly that thought didn't feel as comforting as it used to.

**XxX**

The week stretched by as uneventfully for Jean as any week in high school could. She attended danger room sessions each morning with the rest of the X-men, diligently scrawled notes throughout the school day, tried her best to avoid any contact with Scott during school and any contact with Duncan outside of it, and spent her afternoons shut in her room with hours worth of homework. While for the other students the weekend couldn't' come fast enough, Jean was dreading it. It seemed as though all the students could talk about was Duncan's upcoming party, and that was the one thing Jean was dreading the most. She was expected to be at the party, she knew, especially after failing to show at the last one, but there was a torrent of mixed emotions wrestling within her, emotions Jean did not wish to confront.

_It's not as if Scott will be there,_ Jean reasoned with herself, _there's nothing to confront as long as he's not there._ Which was partly true, Jean realized. As long as she kept the boys in separate parts of her life, she'd have nothing to confront. At least, not yet.

**XxX**

Scowling slightly, Scott surveyed himself critically in the mirror on the back of his door. "You sure this looks all right?"

Kurt shook his head, "Of course it looks all right! After all, Kitty picked it out, didn't she?"

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Kurt chuckled, "You look fine. May I ask as to the occasion?"

Scott's scowl deepened, "Duncan's party."

"Sorry, I must have misheard you," Kurt mimed cleaning out his ear, "did you just say, 'Duncan's party'? As in, _Duncan Matthews_?"

"Yeah, you heard right," Scott shrugged, "Taryn asked me to go."

"And you said yes?" Kurt asked incredulously.

Scott inclined his head slightly.

"I don't believe this!" Kurt cocked his head to the side, thinking. "Vait a minute, you've never bothered dressing up for Taryn before . . . she's not the reason you're going, is she?" Scott's cheeks took a tinge of crimson, but before he could protest, Kurt had figured it out. "You're going because of Jean! Oh, vow, going after the party-giver's girlfriend."

Scott glared at the younger boy, gritting his teeth defiantly. "I'm _not_ going because of Jean."

"Your vords may say so, but your cheeks claim othervise," Kurt ducked, laughing, as Scott swung at him. "Say what you vant, my friend, but I know the truth. And I will take it to my grave if you vish."

Scott offered the boy a small smile, insides churning as his thoughts turned to the evening ahead. "Thanks."

**XxX**

Jean waltzed around groups of teenagers winding their bodies in time with music, and sidestepped those who had taken intimacy to a whole new level as she deftly carried plates of food to scattered tables. A thick strand of hair fell across her eyes and she irritably tried to blow it out of her face, seeing nowhere to set the plates so that she could tuck her hair neatly behind her ears.

"Look," a stray whisper trailed to her ears, "that's Duncan Matthews' girlfriend! Oh, she's so lucky!"

"Yeah, I'm lucky all right," Jean laughed bitterly to herself, "playing hostess for my boyfriend's party while he hangs with his friends." Spying an empty table, Jean scurried over, gratefully setting down the platters. "Where is Duncan, anyway?" She scanned the room, eyes pausing every so often on rumpled blonde hair or a letterman jacket. Her eyes widened in surprise to see a tall, slim figure leaning against the back wall, his arms folded across his chest. Watching Taryn flounce over, her lips pulled into a perfectly practiced pout, and teaser her arms around Scott's waist, white-hot jealousy exploded within Jean.

"Hey Jean, where've you been?" A heavy armed snaked around Jean's waist, pulling her close. She looked up to find herself staring into Duncan's blue eyes, all traces of jealousy vanishing. Instead, she was filled with prickling annoyance.

"Where have _I_ been?" She asked angrily. "Feeding _your_ guests, hosting _your_ party, Duncan. Where have _you_ been?"

He grabbed her wrist and twirled her onto the dance floor, "Talking with the guys. But they're gone now and I can spend time with the one person I really want." He whispered into her ear, kissing her gently down the neck.

"Duncan," she protested weakly before he captured her lips in a kiss. Jean had never been one for public displays of affection. Hand-holding, hugging, a kiss on the cheek – fine, but the tongue wrestling, bodies pressed against lockers, hands everywhere making out sessions were ones she could do without. She was disgusted by those who acted as if they couldn't keep their hands off each other. It was all fine for the bedroom, but, in Jean's opinion, hardly appropriate for areas with other people. _Especially if one of those people is Scott._

"Yeah, I know," Duncan muttered. "You're not big on PDA." To Jean's relief he pulled back, resuming a standard dancing position. "So let's make it a little less public." He danced her around the other couples and to an open doorway, inconspicuously waltzing inside the empty room. The moment the door had shut behind them, Duncan's arms were around Jean, holding her body tight against his. His lips were on hers, and then they were trailing down her neck while his hands fumbled beneath her shirt, working at unhooking her bra.

_This is wrong,_ Jean thought, _this isn't how it's supposed to be._ "Duncan, stop it." She tried to pull away but his hands tightened firmly around her waist, pressing her chest against his. "Duncan," she warned, his lips bruising hers again. Furious, Jean let her anger loose, the power that had been building in her mind pressing out. Duncan stumbled backwards as a wave of telekinetic power hit him, his arms wrenched from her body, Jean's bra strap snapping in his fingers.

"Whoa," Duncan groaned, staggering around the room. "Jean? What the -"

"It's OVER Duncan!" Jean shrieked, her face flushed with fury and embarrassment.

"You don't mean that," he took a step near her, arms outstretched.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" She sidestepped him, ducking beneath his arm and dashed out the door and into the crowded room.

"Jean!" Duncan called after her, but she was too far gone. She ducked around party guests, each one staring curiously at her red face and wrinkled clothes. Tears stung her eyes as the whispers began, a silent hum at first, but escalating into an excited buzz. Rising her eyes off the floor for a moment, Jean found her self staring at Scott's astonished face and Taryn's eyes hungry for gossip. In that moment, Jean felt the flood of tears breaking over her power of will. Heading for the door, she ran out into the cool night air and let the tears flow.

**XxX**

Jean's clothes were wrinkled, her face a brilliant shade of red, and her eyes were filled with tears. As Duncan's angry yells emanated from the doorway in which he stood, Scott quickly put two and two together in his mind. Slipping his out of Taryn's arms, he headed for the door despite her frantic protests.

"Scott Summers, just where do you think you're going?"

"To make sure she's all right," he shrugged.

"Don't think, for one minute, that if you leave me standing here that I'll take you back. You step out that door and it's over Summers!"

"Say those last three words again," Scott requested, a small smile playing on his lips.

Taryn looked slightly taken aback, "It's over, Summers?"

His smile widened, "Thank God." And with that, he ran out the door after Jean.

**XxX**

_**Please Review!!!**_

_**DOJ**_


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Let it be known that I'm really dissatisfied with the ending of this chapter. It makes me sad, how poorly it's written. But I feel the need to post anyway, hopefully the next chapter will more than make up for it! I am so sorry this is up so late! I fully intended for it to be up last weekend, but then I left my notebook at school, so I didn't have any of the story. . 

**Disclaimer**: I own absolutely nothing except for any changes to the plot that you don't recognize.

"Normal speaking"

'telepathically speaking'

_thoughts_

**XxX**

Jean ran as though she'd never run before. She stumbled, tears blinding her eyes, too humiliated to pause and collect her bearings. Scott had seen her. He'd seen her shirt slipping off her shoulder, her mussed hair, and flushed cheeks. But worst of all he'd seen the humiliation, the fury, the _fear_, blatant in her eyes. He was probably making some excuse to Taryn now, rolling his eyes behind those concealing shades and muttering about picking up the shattered bits of Jean Grey once again.

What had Scott been doing there anyways? That wasn't his scene. He hated Duncan with a "passion stronger than the fire of a thousand suns" he'd once said, so why was he at Matthews' party? Unless . . . no, Jean wouldn't allow herself to think of it. It brought too much hope, and hope was something she'd given up on long ago. Hope never failed to disappoint – just as maybe always meant yes to a child but no to an adult. _Maybe we'll buy a dog, Jean. If you're good, maybe you'd only have to stay at the Institute for a little while. Maybe we'll visit you on you're birthday._ Jean couldn't stand to be disappointed again. She didn't want any more maybes. She wanted a straight answer – yes or no.

**XxX**

"Jean?" Scott's voice was hesitant as he approached; afraid his presence might set her running again. Not that that had been a problem. Scott was fast. He wasn't on the track team for nothing. But competition was only part of the reason he ran. He'd had more uncertainties in his lifetime than most, so many questions, so many definite answers he was searching for. He'd spent his whole life chasing something unknown to him, and finally, he was certain, he'd caught her and he wasn't about to let her run again.

Jean was sitting on a rock, legs crossed and back leaning against a withered tree. Her cheeks were blotchy and tears still shimmered in her eyes, but she held her head high, eyes staring straight ahead. "Come to take pity on me?" She questioned in a voice that was not her own.

"N-no," Scott stammered, taken aback by the coldness in her voice. "I just came to see if you're all right, is that a crime?"

"I don't need your sympathy, Scott, nor do I need you to gloat. You were right, I was wrong. Duncan's a jerk and we're through. Happy?"

"That you're no longer with Duncan? Of course!" He circled the rock, taking a seat beside her. "But I hate that you're upset, and I hate that you think that I think coming after you is some kind of chore." He inched closer, tentatively sliding his arm around her shoulders. When she didn't protest, Scott pulled her close, and she reluctantly laid her head on his shoulder. "You're my best friend, Jean. I will _always_ be there for you, whether you want me or not."

Jean sniffled, trying her best not to cry. Deep inside, she knew that what Scott was saying was true. But on the surface she was afraid to believe him. "Thanks," she murmured, "but shouldn't you be with Taryn?"

Scott's cheeks colored and Jean could feel him shift uneasily beneath her. "No . . ."

"Mr. Summers, I may be your best friend, but she is your girlfriend." Jean found herself slightly chastising him. _What is wrong with you, Jean? You know friendship always comes first._

"Jean, we made a pact freshmen year that friends would always come before boy or girlfriends. I don't know about you, but I intend to stick to my promise. Besides," he added, "She's not exactly my girlfriend anymore."

Jean sat up so fast she nearly tumbled off the rock. "What do you mean she's 'not exactly' your girlfriend anymore?"

"We broke up," he said with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

"Why? I always thought you two were happy together."

"And everyone thought you and Duncan were the perfect couple."

Jean stared at him in a stunned silence and the red of his cheeks deepened. "I'm sorry, that was really low."

"No," Jean said slowly, "You're right."

Both unsure of what to say, the two sat in silence. A tumultuous turbulence of thoughts tumbled through each of their minds, but nothing that either could put into words. A cool breeze danced around them, teasing Jean's hair across Scott's face. Jean shrived involuntarily, leaning closer to Scott who chivalrously removed his jacket and wordlessly draped it over her shoulders. The forest seemed to hold the magic of the moment and neither teen wanted to move, fearful of breaking its captive spell. As he grew steadily colder, Scott turned towards Jean. "I'd guess we'd best be getting home."

"Yeah," she sat up reluctantly, trying not to smile. "I guess you're right."

Fingers brushing and shoulders bumping, Scott fought the urge to grasp Jean's hand as they walked side by side back to Scott's car.

**XxX**

By noon the next day, news of Bayville High's star couple's break-up had spread like fire, reaching the ears of nearly every student. The story had been grossly exaggerated from the original incident and the latest version seemed to be that Jean was carrying Duncan's child and he refused to father it. All in all, the grief from the break-up seemed to be hitting Jean the hardest. Whispering girls broke into guilty giggles as she passed. Freshmen girls commended her for dumping Duncan while senior girls sneered and thanked her for freeing up the school "stud." An immature group of sophomores even had the nerve to saunter up and offer to father Jean's baby. This last encounter had left the boys guffawing and Jean nearly in tears. Anxious to get away from the circling rumors, Jean fled the building, deliberately avoiding the quad as she searched for an area of solitude. Needing a place to vent, she stumbled onto the empty soccer field.

"98, 99, 100 . . ." Jean found herself ten minutes later, juggling a ball on the deserted field. Bounce on the shin, her foot, kick up to her chest, head it and "Scoooooore!" Jean cheered in mock victory as the ball sailed into the tattered goal. After a lap around the field and some brief warm-ups, Jean could feel her stress melting way. This was life; no school, no worries, no rumors, no boys, just her and the soccer ball.

Jean was so enveloped in her trance that she didn't notice the boy walking in front of the closed concession stand as she bounced the ball once on her head and extended her leg in a high shot against the wall.

Senses perfect from years of training blind, the whistling of the ball cutting through the air reached Scott ears, giving him just enough time to drop to the ground before the soccer ball skimmed the top of his head. Scott let out a low whistle, marveling at his luck. Before he could get up, Jean had appeared, crouching on the ground in front of him. "I am so sorry! I didn't see you coming! Are you all right?"

"I should be asking you the same question," Scott pushed himself upright and leaned back against the wall. "That was some kick. Anyone in particular you were hoping to kill?"

Jean blushed, exceedingly embarrassed as her fury dissipated. "The majority of the student body?" She offered sheepishly.

"Oh, they still giving you grief over last night?"

She nodded, "Yeah, what about you?"

Scott shrugged, scratching the back of his head. "A couple of glares from Taryn's crew but nothing too monumental. A few guys have thanked me for freeing her up. No one can understand why I dumped 'such a babe'."

"Why did you?" Jean questioned softly.

Scott shrugged again, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "Taryn's nice, she's a good girlfriend, but she just wasn't the right girl for me."

"Why dump her now? Why not wait 'till you've found that girl?" Jean scrutinized Scott carefully, noticing the slight flush of his cheeks and small smile playing on his lips. "You have found her, haven't you?"

"I think so," he whispered, staring at the field.

Jean felt her heart fall as she watched the radiant exuberance on Scott's face. If asked, she wouldn't have been able to explain her emotions, but as Scott smiled at the thought of his dream girl, Jean felt an intense longing. She hated thinking she was the kind of girl who always needed a guy to hold onto – she certainly hadn't been before going out with Duncan. _Perhaps you don't need a guy,_ she thought suddenly, _perhaps it's just a certain one in particular._ Jean glanced up at Scott, emotions tumbling within her, and suddenly the raging storm of tangled emotions that had continued for days on end was over, leaving her with one clear feeling. As she watched her best friend thinking about his girl, she realized why she'd had so many conflicting emotions lately, why she'd been disgusted by Duncan and secretly afraid of Scott. It wasn't Scott she'd been afraid of, it had been admitting to herself the most terrifying thought of all, but all it took was one moment, one moment to change a lifetime of confusion. Jean had slowly fallen in love with her best friend.

**XxX**

The alarm rang at 2 a.m. startling Scott from a dream filled slumber. He lay in bed for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts while slowly waking. The buzzing ring came again – not from his alarm clock – but from the Danger Room monitor each X-man had by his or her bed.

'X-men, report to the main hall.'

Scott quickly hauled himself out of bed and began yanking on his uniform. Switching his glasses for his visor, Scott dashed into the hall, nearly colliding with Rogue who was hobbling in the hall still trying to pull on boots. "Sorry," he muttered distractedly, pushing past her down into the foyer.

Despite the many yawns and bloodshot eyes, the six assembled fairly quickly, each one finding some wall space or a banister to lean against. In the center sat the professor, his age more evident in his tired state than ever before. Forehead pressed deep with frowning wrinkles, Professor Xavier surveyed his team of exhausted X-men gravely. "Cerebro has picked up the signal of active mutant behavior near the amphitheater. Unfortunately, I seems the mutant is being pursued by numerous humans – no doubt a group who witnessed a display of unexplainable power. If this mutant is captured it will only be a matter of time before the secret of our kind is revealed. It is only a matter of time before we are openly persecuted. Mankind is not yet ready for us, we need to prevent this capture."

"We're on it, Professor." Scott spoke confidently.

"A word of caution: it is critical that your true identities remain hidden."

Scott nodded, "Right." Turning to his weary team he made a slashing movement through the air with his hand. "X-men, move out!"

**XxX**

Fog circled the amphitheater in misty tendrils, curling around the ankles of the X-men as they stepped cautiously out of the van. The park was deathly quiet, not even crickets dared to chirp in the ghostly darkness. "Ah don' like this," Rogue muttered, "It's too quiet."

"Yeah," Shadowcat agreed, briskly rubbing her arms, "I s anyone else, like, totally creeped out?"

Nightcrawler nodded, "Vhere is everyone?"

As if in answer to his question, a shrill scream pierced the air, followed by the popping of guns.

The X-men exchanged glances, and as Cyclops nodded, broke into a steady run in the direction of the scream. "They're on the move!" Cyclops yelled. "Shadowcat, Rogue, you two head to the river and try to cut them off. Jean, Nightcrawler, see if you can track them down. Spyke, you're with me, we'll try and follow." Rogue and Kitty began to sprint, jean lifted herself into the air, and Kurt teleported in the general direction of the scream, only to teleport back a second later.

"Cyclops, they've cornered her in the restrooms."

"Right, let's go." Nightcrawler grabbed hold of Spyke and Cyclops and teleported them off to the bathrooms.

**XxX**

Figures dressed head to toe in black, faces covered by helmets and guns in hand advanced slowly on a young blonde girl. Tears streamed down the girl's cheeks and her shoulders heaved as she screamed, "What do you want from me?" The figures kept advancing until her back collided with the brick wall. "Leave me alone!"

One of the figures trained his gun on the girl and prepared to shoot when a red flash knocked the item from his hands. Startled, his head swiveled looking for the cause. It was then that he caught sight of the teenagers. Six of them, clad in tight fitting uniforms, each one glaring menacingly at the soldiers. The tallest one, the one with the strange visor around his eyes, yelled something to the others and suddenly they were rushing the soldiers. He opened his mouth to yell to hid commander, but before he could speak he felt a cool hand on the back of his neck . . .

. . . The soldier crumpled at Rogue's feet and she shuddered, overwhelmed by a flood of memories. Beside her, Kitty phased up through the ground, removing belts of ammunition from around each soldier's waist. Above the group of stunned soldiers hovered Jean who removed the guns with a wave of her hand. Finally grasping the serious threat of the situation, the soldiers sprung into defensive action. Half the team rushed the X-men while the other dove for their ammunition, picking up any weapon they could find . . .

. . . Forgotten in the commotion, the young girl wasted no time in using the situation to her advantage. Stepping carefully she slid around the restroom building, trying not to make any noise. With her back to the brawl she ran towards a thicket of trees, hoping to take cover, only to find herself face to face with one of the other mutants. Startled by his fuzzy blue face, pointed ears, and sharp incisors, she let out a terrified scream.

"Sh, sh, it's okay! I'm here to help you!" The mutant spoke in a thick German accent. He reached out a three-fingered hand, and as the girl jerked back she felt a peculiar prickling in the back of her neck. The mutant's face seemed to swim in and out of focus before her eyes. "Was ist . . ." he seemed to be asking her a question but she couldn't hear. Feeling dizzy, she involuntarily sunk forward into the mutant's arms . . .

. . . Nightcrawler wrapped his arms around the girl and, noticing the three darts in her neck, ported her safely away . . .

bamf A puff of blue smoke announced Nightcrawler's arrival. "Cyclops! The guns! They are tranquilizers!"

Distracted, Cyclops turned to face his friend. "Has she been hit?"

"Ja, ja," Nightcrawler nodded.

Cyclops surveyed the thinning battle. Wary of the mutants, many of the soldiers had retreated, only a handful still remained. "Get the girl back to the van and wait there, I'll get the others." Nightcrawler nodded and the familiar smell of sulfur filled the air. Cyclops began making his way towards Jean who was busy trying to fight off three of the remaining soldiers. "Jean" he shouted, trying to force his way to her using the concussive blasts from his eyes to push the soldiers out of his way. "Alert the others! Tell them to get back to the van, now!"

Jean nodded and pushed the soldiers away with a sudden burst of telekinetic energy. Reaching out with her telepathy, she delivered Cyclops' message to the others.

Cyclops turned away, preparing to fight his way back to the van, but a soldier had grabbed him around the neck and was forcefully trying to drag him down. Optic blasts useless, Cyclops fought using his own strength and suppressed rage. Letting his weight drop, he threw the soldier off balance and then skillfully twisted to remove the man's arm. Rising back to his feet, Cyclops broke into a frenzied run, trying to dodge lunging attacks from the soldiers. He'd nearly reached the clearing that held the van when he felt a peculiar prickling in the back of his neck, followed by a wave of dizziness. Nausea washed over him and Cyclops sank to his knees, fighting the distortion in his eyes. The sound of heavy boots crunching on leaves was the last thing Scott heard before he felt the pressure of the swift blow to the back of his neck, and the impenetrable darkness that came as he lost consciousness.

**XxX**

The first strands of pearlescent pink began to print the pale sky as the X-men gathered in the clearing. Kurt laid the blonde girl gently on a seat and strapped her in while the other X-men staggered to their own seats.

"Hold up!" Jean Grey's authoritative voice rang over their tired heads. "Where's Scott?"

The X-men exchanged uneasy glances. They hadn't seen him since they left the clearing. Jean contemplated having Kurt port over to check, but she felt as though this was something she needed to do herself. "Rogue, can you keep charge for a few minutes? I'm going to see what's keeping Scott."

The girl acquiesced, noting the anxiety lacing Jean's voice as she lifted herself into the air, soaring above trees as she kept her eyes peeled for Scott. With a feeling of foreboding, Jean flew faster to the area where they'd fought the soldiers, only to find it void of any signs of human life. _It's as if we'd never fought here. They've simply vanished._

**XxX**

**ssummers1986:** Actually, my exams aren't over . I still have two more next week.

**Miss Ginny:** Yes, I saw your review before, and I tried to find your e-mail address but it wasn't up on your site. X-men Evo (for all I know) is not back on in the US. I live in Japan so we haven't even seen the 4th season over here yet. Sorry if I got your hopes up!

**Goblyn-Queen:** I promise you, as long as I keep getting reviews I'll keep writing

**Icy Discordia:** I know what you mean, I love Jean and Scott for all the reasons most people seem to hate them. Thanks so much for the sweet compliment.

**Xx-Hugz-N-Kizzez-xX:** Thank you!

**Diaz F, williz, X00001:** I'm glad you all liked the bit between Scott and Duncan I was rather proud of that . . . even though Scott probably would have been more gentlemanly . . .

**LanceIsHot:** I love your penname! And I feel a bit bad for Taryn as well . . . but she never seemed like that good of a friend to Jean . . .she was so evil in "Shadow Dance"!

**Idypebsaby:** I very much agree with you, why Jean was ever with Duncan is beyond me.

**NinaWilliamsSilentAssassin & Mi-chan17: **blushes I'm glad you both liked the description, thanks for the sweet comments!

**GothikStrawberry:** I think Jean needs a reason to be normal, in my opinion it always seems like she's striving for that, why else would she hang out with people like Taryn and Duncan when she has a friend like Scott? I'm glad you liked it though! I always try to add that in.

**Carby6 & StaROb14765:** I'm glad you both like it! Sorry it took so long for this chapter!

I'm so sorry if I missed someone, I don't usually do this but I always love it when people reply to my comments so I thought I'd give it a shot. You all are so fantastic!!!

_**Please Review!!!**_

_**DOJ**_

_Check out 'Queen of the Night People' my joint penname with Melizza!_


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Have I told you all lately how absolutely amazing you all are? I know it's been a month, and I'm terribly sorry for the delay . . . I was battling a bit of writer's block. I thought you all might want to know that this bit of the story is in substitution for "Blind Alley." It was the only way I could think of to not incorporate the world learning about mutants while still keeping up with the direction of the story.

**Disclaimer**: I own absolutely nothing except for any changes to the plot that you don't recognize.

"Normal speaking"

'telepathically speaking'

_thoughts_

**XxX**

Buzzing. A dull buzzing filled his throbbing head, the only sound he could hear. Groaning, Scott opened his eyes, grateful for the reprieve of powers bouncing inside his head. He wasn't in his room; that was the first thing he noticed. Next came the thundering pain at the base of his skull, accompanied with the steady dripping of water. He tenderly touched the back of his neck, feeling the bruise swell beneath his fingertips. He groaned again, he was going to have a knot the size of a softball on his head by tomorrow morning. Or perhaps it was already tomorrow morning. Scott couldn't tell, his cell had no windows. _Cell? What am I doing in a cell?_

He jolted upright into a sitting position as memories of the previous night came flooding back. The soldiers, Kurt grabbing the girl, him telling Jean to get the others back to the van, the dizzy sensation, and then the blinding pain. Scott rose to his feet, survival instincts kicking in. It would be best to observe his surroundings, look for any weaknesses or escape routes. Eyes adjusted to the dim light he began a thorough search of his cell, determined to learn its every corner like the back of his hand. (**A/N: I _hate_ that expression. Who knows what the back of their hand looks like?**)

**XxX**

Tears stung Jean's eyes as she exited the Professor's study. She hadn't had the strength to make it to school, none of the mutants had, but it had been far worse for Jean that the others and it was Jean the Professor had pitied. She hadn't wanted to open her eyes, and when Ororo had finally goaded her out of bed she cursed the sun for daring to shine. Scott was gone. He'd simply vanished in the same fashion as the soldiers. The Professor had tried using Cerebro to find him, but Scott had yet to use his powers, and knowing Scott, that would be a last resort saved for a worst case scenario.

It was in the mid of that thought that Jean collided with Rogue. "Oh, sorry," Jean said, "I guess I wasn't paying all that much attention."

"It's awright," the younger mutant muttered, but Jean didn't seem to be listening. Her eyes had a glazed, vacant look, and her face lacked its usual shine. Rogue hesitantly placed a comforting hand on Jean's slightly quivering shoulder, causing the girl to jump. "Hey, we're gonna find him, okay? Don't give up on us or Scott, yet."

"I know," Jean whispered, smiling through her tears. "It's just . . . it took me so long to realize . . . and I never got to tell him. So now he's out there somewhere, and he doesn't know."

Rogue felt her heart rise and plummet within her. "I think he knows, Jean, Scott's always known, he just hasn't believed."

Jean nodded, "he's afraid someone will leave him again." She smiled gratefully at Rogue, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry I've dumped this all on you. You're probably the last one who wanted to hear it."

Rogue gave her a crooked smile. _If only you knew._ "Don't worry about it." She caught Jean by the wrist as she began to move away. "Just do me a favor, will ya? When we find Scott, tell him how you really feel. He doesn't deserve to be led on."

"No one does. But don't worry, I'll tell him."

**XxX**

After 30 minutes, Scott wearily collapsed to the floor, mentally running over what he'd discovered about the cell. It was under seven feet in height; he could lay his palm flat against the ceiling without rising to his toes. A pipe opened from the wall with a steady drip of water, but carried no sounds of the outside world. The bars on his door were rusted, but strong, and the hinges and doorknob were supposedly on the other side. "Nothing much of use," he muttered, eyeing the door. He was tempted to just blast the darn thing, but he didn't have the slightest idea as to what lay on the other side. "Best to know the enemy before you attack."

Seeing no way to improve his situation, Scott settled back into a corner, resting his head against the cold wall. He wondered where the other X-men were and if they'd made it back to the mansion. _If not, I'd have probably heard from Jean by now. _Jean. Some how his thoughts always led back to her. Paul used to tease him about it when they'd been younger, saying that Scott could connect anything at all back to Jean. He sighed, thinking of the time they'd spent together on the soccer field just the day before. Jean had seemed so clueless when Scott talked about his "dream girl." Jean had always been his dream – the one he wished for on shooting stars and birthday cakes – for the past five years. And for once it seemed as though there was actually some chance of something happening between them. _Although if I don't get out of this cell, I won't even see her again._

There was a sudden rattle of keys on the other side of the door and the sound of numerous bolts sliding from the locks. Scott warily rose to his feet as the door slowly creaked open, sticking occasionally in the clots of matted dirt, blinding him with sudden light. The silhouette of a tall man blocked the light in the doorway, his square shoulders filling the frame. Scott squinted against the light, trying to grasp some detail of the man's shaded face before he stepped into the shadows, making room for the soldier who followed him in. The first man nodded from his place, hidden in the shadows, and the shoulder grabbed Scott gruffly by the arm, shoving him to the door.

"Hey! What's going on?" He hadn't meant to talk, but fear was starting to overcome Scott. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

The guard remained silent, dragging the struggling Scott out into a narrow whitewashed hallway. The first man stepped from Scott's cell and walked ahead of Scott and the guard, leading the way down the hall past numerous other cell doors, each one barred in the same fashion as Scott's. Dim lights swung from wires on the ceiling, casting ghostly shadows on the walls and giving the facility a slightly haunted look. Scott could hear the muffled cries of other inmates behind closed doors, each one drowning themselves in their own screams as to not be swallowed by the interminable silence of their cells.

The first man came to a halt outside one of the doors and produced a small key, sliding it into the automatic lock. The door clicked and swung open allowing the guard to shove Scott inside what appeared to be some sort of experimental facility. The kind of facility he'd always imagined when reading stories about Area 51 and Roswell cover-ups. The walls and floor were a steely gray, reflecting the bright lights and white coats of the many official-looking people who shuffled from station to station, clutching clipboards and test tubes.

"There," the first man gestured towards another door, tucked neatly between a computer lab and chemical processing room.

Once inside, the first man turned the lock on the door behind him. The guard pushed Scott towards a steel table that faintly resembled that which doctors would use for operations, but it lacked the comforting trimmings of a hospital. With help from the first man, Scott was flattened onto the table – not without lack of his trying to prevent this – and strapped down.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" Scott struggled against the leather straps, trying to loosen them with constant pulling. He'd fought against the guard the entire walk from his cell to this room, yet the man hadn't budged; he'd merely dragged Scott along as easily as a puppy on a chain.

The first man surveyed Scott carefully, looking him over from the bottom of his yellow boots to his hair peeking out over his carefully adjusted visor. He turned to the guard, not taking his eyes off of Scott as he spoke. "Go get Dr. Foster."

"Are you sure?" The guard glanced meaningfully at Scott.

"I said _Go_."

"Yessir," the guard inclined his head and slipped from the room, leaving the man alone with Scott.

Since the first time since he'd been dragged from his cell, Scott got a good look at the older man. He had brown hair streaked with gray and shaved back in a buzz, accompanied with a thick brown mustache that curled about his face. His eyes were a dark gray, small, menacing, and filled thick with hatred. When he spoke, his thin lips curled in a sneer, his voice as hard as flint. "Mutant."

**XxX**

'Jean,' the Professor's voice crept into Jean's head, pulling her out of a pitiful attempt at slumber. 'The girl is awake, we need you in the MedLab.'

Reluctantly, Jean managed to haul herself from her awkward position sprawled across one of the Institute's many couches. She didn't really want to face this girl, she was afraid if she did she may just lose all control and let her bitter rage erupt upon the child. Jean knew it wasn't the girl's fault that Scott was gone, but she couldn't help thinking that if they'd never had to rescue her, Scott might still be here laughing at Jean, smiling his adorable smile and doing his best to make her laugh, to rise her spirits. _Of course, if he was here I wouldn't be upset._

By the time Jean arrived in the mansion's sublevel, most of the other students had already gathered outside room, eagerly hoping the girl might hold news of Scott's disappearance, but Jean knew better than to hope. Hoping never got you anything other than disappointment. She pushed her way through the throng of students, ignoring their envious groans as she was admitted into the MedLab. _I wish one of you were going in as well, you don't know how much I don't want to be here._

"Jean, I'm glad to see you." The Professor smiled warmly at her. "This is Allison," he smiled at the blonde girl, "Allison, I'd like you to meet Jean. She was one of the first students at the Institute."

"Hi," Jean tried her best to smile at the young girl. Allison was clearly frightened. Her eyes darted back and forth between the Professor and Jean, and as Jean spoke to her, she tightened her grasp on her bed sheet, pulling it closer to her. Any feelings of hostility vanished as Jean observed Allison's vulnerable state. She knew exactly how the girl must feel, as Jean had been just as scared and untrusting when she'd first arrived at the Institute. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right," Allison murmured hesitantly. "I-I'm sorry about your friend." Her eyes fell downwards.

Jean gaped at the girl, trying to find something to say. "Yeah, me too."

"Jean," the Professor intervened, "Allison was about to tell me about the events she went through last night." 'She's frightened,' he added with his own telepathic abilities, 'but she acknowledges what you all did for her last night, and she wants to be of any help to find Scott.'

'Are you sure she's up for it? She seems terrified.'

'So were you when you first came,' she could hear the smile in the Professors "voice." 'But, like you, she's a strong and determined girl – not to mention stubborn. When she heard about Scott she said she wanted to help, and despite her appearance, she won't back down.'

Jean nodded. She could understand that. Allison felt guilty. _And she should!_ "Do you think you have any information about my friend?"

Allison glanced at the Professor, who nodded encouragingly at her. "I don't know if anything will help. But I heard some of the soldier's talking, when they first found me. They were talking about some 'experimental facility' for mutants. They were talking about some serum to cancel out a gene or something." Tears pooled in the girl's eyes. "I didn't really stick around to hear more . . . I ran, I was afraid." Her shoulders started shaking. "I'm so-sorry."

"Sh, Allison, please relax." The Professor said soothingly. "You've done all you can. I want you to rest right now. Our medical advisor will be in, in a moment. His appearance may be somewhat . . .alarming. But I don't want you to worry, he's a very gentle man, despite his appearance."

The blonde girl nodded and the Professor wheeled towards the door, beckoning Jean to follow. Before they left, Jean turned to face him. "Professor, what did that all mean?"

The Professor sighed, placing his fingertips together, elbows resting on his knees. "It means that Scott may be in grave danger."

_**Please Review!**_

_**DOJ**_

**A/N:** Hey all, I'm a bit hesitant to do review replies, seeing as how one writer had her story pulled off from ffnet and the only reason she can figure is that she replied to reviews at the end of each chapter. I'm going to do replies this chapter – but if you review, let me know if you want me to keep doing replies. If no one does, then I won't bother, but if you like hearing replies, I'll keep it up.

**SOLJA:** Are you serious? No, I've never seen the video, but if you know where I can find it, please let me know! You've had me frantically trying to come up with ideas for this chapter just so I could respond to you. But yeah, that is just a major coincidence. I've always thought the song fit them rather well though. Anyway, thanks so much for the review! I'm glad you like my story!

**GothikStrawberry:** I don't think Taryn is all that bad either, if there was no Jean I wouldn't have a problem with her and Scott. It's just the manner in which she threw herself at Scott in "Shadow Dance" and her snide comments about Jean who was "supposedly" her best friend.

**Tashafic:** blushes Thanks, I'm glad you liked it.

**Ingrid: **Thanks for the huge compliment I know that Mrs. Jean Grey-Summers has a list of people in her bio who currently write Jott stories, so you may want to check that out.

**LanceIsHot:** Is she an OC? I honestly don't know. I'm borrowing her character from the X-men Legends video game, though she won't really have much to do with the story other than the fact that I needed some reason for Scott to be kidnapped.

**Wen1:** Sorry this took so long, I hope it was worth the wait.


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Woohoo, SNOW DAY! Aren't you all absolutely lucky people? If Dr. T. had failed to cancel school, this chapter wouldn't be going up today. School is absolutely killing me, so, sorry for the slow update. Hope it was worth the wait

**Disclaimer**: I own absolutely nothing except for any changes to the plot that you don't recognize.

"Normal speaking"

'telepathically speaking'

_thoughts_

**XxX**

"Mutant scum," the man spat, "resistance is futile."

Scott followed the man's pacing with his eyes. _Resistance is futile? Has this guy been practicing his villain act?_ After straining against his bonds once more, Scott realized the man was right; resistance _was_ futile. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

The man shook his head, "Such bravery, but you are in no position to be asking questions."

There was a soft click of a key in the lock. The guard had returned, this time accompanied by an austere Asian woman in a lab coat. Her raven-black hair was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head and semi-circle glasses framed her almond eyes.

"Dr. Foster," the man welcomed.

"Trask," she nodded, "how's the patient?"

Trask sneered down at Scott, "The _mutant_ is stubborn, but he appears strong. I want a full diagnostic run on him before we begin, however. I want to know _exactly_ what we're working with."

Dr. Foster nodded, "Of course."

"Good, I trust you can manage on your own? I'll leave Brutus with you if you wish." It was a statement, one not to be argued with. Trask's eyes hardened, his lips pressing together in a seamless line. "Do not let your personal feelings interfere this time, Dr. Foster, or you will find yourself locked away for malpractice and illegal experimentation."

Dr. Foster bowed her head, supposedly in shame, and Scott noticed the color of her cheeks deepening. "I assure you, that was an incident I'm determined never to repeat. You don't have to worry."

Trask eyed her in doubt, "That may be so, but I'm not willing to take that risk, Dr. Brutus will be here to ensure that nothing goes wrong."

"Yes, sir." Dr. Foster moved to the side, allowing Trask to exit the room. The door had barely begun to close when the burly guard stepped inside, slamming the door behind him and sliding the bolt into the lock. "Very well, then." Dr. Foster shook her head. "I know Trask is reluctant to trust me, however, if you get in my way, I assure you the consequences of _your_ actions will be far direr."

If Brutus felt at all threatened by this statement, he gave no sign, his face remaining as impassive as ever.

The doctor shook her head, muttering under her breath as she crossed over to where Scott lay strapped to the metallic bed. "Hello, I'm Dr. Ami Foster, and you are?"

"Very irritated." Scott scrutinized the woman from behind his glasses.

"I imagine so," she remarked idly, busing herself with something at the sink. "However, that is apparently none of my concern at the moment."

"And why not? I am _your_ patient, after all."

Dr. Foster shot a glance to Brutus before replying, "No, you're Trask's specimen. I'm merely hired help." She filled a syringe with a bubbling orange liquid, wiping the long needle down with alcohol.

"What's that for?" Scott asked warily, not liking the looks of such a long needle. When the doctor didn't respond, he strained against his bonds once more, as if hoping they'd suddenly loosened in the last few minutes. Dr. Foster crossed over to Scott and swiftly wiped the inside of his elbow down with rubbing alcohol. "No, get that away from me!" Scott was panicking now, rocking against his bonds.

"Please calm down," Dr. Foster said, "I promise I'm not going hurt you. I would never intentionally hurt any of my patients."

"Intentionally?" Scott gasped, watching as she lowered the needle to his skin, don't you dare-" the needle poked deep into his vein, and with a sorry smile, Dr. Foster injected the bubbling liquid.

Scott felt dizzy almost instantly. The room before him blurred slightly and he felt his muscles all relaxing beneath their bonds. He tried to clench his fist, but it just lay there, still, as though it had been disconnected from the rest of his nervous system. He tried to yell, but his lips would not open. Terrified, he tried moving each part of his body, yet nothing responded. He could still hear words filtering in, could still see blurred shapes of movement, yet the rest of his body felt completely foreign to him; he could no longer feel the needle which he was sure was still poking out of his skin.

Dr. Foster traced over the seams of Scott's shirt with her fingertips, knowing that in just a few moments he would have lost all consciousness. It was hard to tell with those glasses shading his eyes, but the skin around his lips kept twitching, suggesting he was still trying to maintain control of his nervous system. "Congratulations," she whispered, "you've proved to be the strongest of Trask's 'experiments' thus far. Perhaps," she added sadly, "unlike the others, you may actually survive."

**XxX**

Jean was lying on her back across her bed, her head and feet dangling off opposite sides, enjoying the rush of the blood flowing to her brain. It was just what she needed to clear this headache, pressure on the brain and clouded vision.

A sudden knock on the door broke her from her trance. "Jean?"

"Come in," she called, rolling her back and snapping up into a sitting position. "Ow," she muttered, placing her head in her hands, "head rush."

Kitty poked her head in through Jean's door, shuffling nervously into the room. "Hey, Jean."

"Oh, hey, Kitty. What's up?"

The younger girl tugged on ponytail, "Well, I've been thinking . . ."

"Always dangerous," Jean nodded.

"Haha," Kitty rolled her eyes, "glad to see _you're _feeling better."

"Not really," Jean shook her head, "I'm just not sure I'm ready to cope yet."

Kitty nodded, sitting down beside Jean on the bed. "I don't mean to sound all counselor-ish, but, do you want to talk about it?"

Jean sighed, flopping back down on her bed. "I don't know, Kitty, I'm just so, confused. It's like . . . I only just realized how I felt about him, and now I can't eve tell him, he's gone."

"Do you love him?"

Jean paused for a minute, eyeing Kitty appraisingly, she hadn't expected to get into such a conversation with the freshman, yet she felt compelled to answer. "I think so." And, almost as though interpreting Kitty's next question, she launched into an explanation of her tangled thoughts. "I don't know why, really. He's just always been there for me, you know?" She sighed, shaking her head again. "No, let me try again." She paused, brow furrowed as she contemplated the depth of Kitty's unasked question. "Did you know Scott was blind for awhile? He doesn't really like to talk about it. But, before Dr. McCoy discovered a way to contain his concussive blasts, Scott walked around with a blindfold on, never able to open his eyes for fear of hurting someone. Well, when I was younger I sued to compete in art shows throughout the school – I guess it was my way of coping after my parents 'abandoned' me, after they threw me out like a used toy. My parents were always too busy to attend the show, but Scott came to every single one, even though he couldn't see, he was always there. He's always been like that, it's just the way he is, you know? He'll always be there, no matter what, and he never gives up hope," she gave a sad laugh, "even in the most hopeless of situations."

"You're not hopeless, Jean," Kitty whispered.

"No? I turned my back on Scott in order to get closer to Duncan, when Duncan isn't even half the man Scott is."

"Can I ask why?"

"Why I was with Duncan for so long?" When Kitty nodded, Jean offered her another sad smile. "Duncan was the stability in my life. I always know what to expect from him. But Scott . . . he just knows me too well. He knows when I'm upset and whereas Duncan will believe me when I say I'm fine, Scott never gives up – he'll either push it or wait 'til I'm ready to talk." She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "With Duncan I was safe, I knew he'd never question me or touch the memories I kept hidden, But Scott will be the one to ask what know one else has, he'll be the one to touch my fears. I always knew what to expect with Duncan, but with Scott . . . you can never tell."

Kitty nodded slowly, allowing Jean to immerse herself in her own thoughts for the moment. She'd always thought she'd know Jean fairly well, everyone thought they knew Jean. But it was as though a veil was being lifted for the first time, giving Kitty a clear, unclouded view of the "perfect" Jean Grey. And what she saw was hardly perfect at all. Jean was just a lonely girl, lost without the one that she loved. She was someone who struggled to fit into the American Dream of life, she worked hard to overcome the one thing that made her different from everyone else, and for the most part she had succeeded. Without Scott, however, her world was slowly crumbling down around her, leaving her vulnerable and unguarded.

"Jean, do you want to find him?"

"Of course," Jean answered, blinking tears from her eyes.

"Right, come with me."

**XxX**

Dr. Ami Foster hung X-rays on the light screen on her wall, taking careful notes on the arrangement of each of Scott's bones. She found a slight fracture at the back of his skull, undoubtedly where Trask's men had hit him that first night. She shook her head, it would be impossible for her to continue research if the blundering fools continuously damaged the specimens. Luckily, the fracture wasn't serious. _Lucky for you? Lucky for the mutant? Or lucky for Trask?_ Ami shook the thoughts from her mind, now wasn't the time to be questioning her motives. Working for Trask paid the bills, funded her research, and allowed her access to some of the most amazing creatures on earth. And, in any case, Trask's threats hung heavy in her mind. They were few and far between, but after her mishap with the last patient, Ami shuddered. She couldn't bear to recall the threats he had placed on her family. Not only did he have the power of controlling her life within his hold, but power over her family brushed at his fingertips. No matter what conflicting emotions she had over this mutant, _Boy,_ she correct in her mind. _No matter what conflicting emotions I have over this _boy_ I cannot allow that to cloud my better judgment once more, for Ari's sake._

She glanced sadly at the teenage boy, who still lay motionless on the cold table, like a cadaver waiting to be opened at a morgue. The life of this boy lay in her hands, and her life lay in the hands of a cruel man, a man willing to go to no limits to get what he wanted. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to Scott's seemingly lifeless body. She crossed the room, pressing a red button at the base of an intercom system. "Trask," she spoke through the small box, "I've finished the basic tests, the results are waiting for you."

**XxX**

**A/N: **Was that okay? The bit with Kitty and Jean I had originally written earlier for a different purpose, so Jean's response might seem a bit out of place, but I hope it worked. Please, please review!

**X00001:** Yeah, Allison was Magma in the game, but she's not going to appear much more in this story, maybe just once or twice in the next two chapters. Her sole purpose was to create the atmosphere in which Scott was taken.  
**SOLJA: **Thank you so so so so sooooo much! You don't know how unbelievably excited I was to get that video! And thanks, I was actually pretty proud of that bit.  
**Wen1:** Sorry for the wait, but I'm back  
**Mi-chan17:** Sorry to leave you hanging for so long, I hope this chapter was worth the wait!  
**GothikStrawberry: **Thanks for your input on the whole "review" thing. I liked your idea, and if I feel that this really is taking up too much space, I'll take up that suggestion. It's just nice to feel mentioned, isn't it? I always love when authors do this.  
**Lil Jean:** Believe me, I don't want to hurt Scott anymore than you want him to be hurt. He's my favorite out of all the X-men, so he definitely won't be hurt any more than necessary.  
**Demonestress:** Yup, borrowing Allison from the game, it's cool, isn't it? I've always thought that Jean was a bit daft for not admitting how she felt, but hopefully this chapter cleared up a bit on how she's feeling. It's got to be hard for her to admit something like that.  
**Ldy-FloR:** Glad you liked Jean dumping Duncan, but Scott's not with her yet ;)  
**MarkC: **Thanks, I think I will keep the reviews, but they are seeming quite long, so I may only reply if people have questions. Feel free to ask any  
**Telepathic Angel:** I'm glad you like the story. I'm not too sure on the mind bond thing yet . . . I don't want it to be exactly like "Blind Alley". So, probably not.  
**LanceIsHot:** I finally fairly far in the game, but then my brother's friend accidentally broke our memory card, so I have to do it all over again. .  
**Amber Moons:** I'm glad you think this is worth waiting for, I hope I didn't disappoint you with this chapter!  
**Diaz F: **Nope, sadly it's never that simple. I wish it were though, but then there'd be no story

_**Please Review!**_

_**DOJ**_


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Wow, over 100 reviews? You are all so amazing! I really hate that it takes me so long to update, but you have to know that I do try to get these chapters up as soon as I possibly can. If you can't understand that I'm doing my best, don't bother reading my fic, I don't appreciate being chewed out for not getting a chapter up fast enough for your satisfaction. Thanks to all those who have been so understanding!

**Disclaimer**: I own absolutely nothing except for any changes to the plot that you don't recognize.

"Normal speaking"

'telepathically speaking'

'_thoughts'_

**XxX**

Dr. Ami Foster paced nervously back and forth across the small room, occasionally pausing to glance down at her still "sleeping" patient. He had yet to wake from the anesthetic she'd administered, it having been a sufficiently large amount. It wasn't that she was concerned for her safety, or that she'd believed his mutation would have any effect on the medication, she'd simply believed it would be kinder to the boy to remain ignorant to Trask's demands.

There was a dull click as the bolt slid out from the door. Dr. Foster stepped backwards, her thighs colliding with the cold edge of the operation table. Though Brutus moved aside from the doorway in order to allow Trask to enter, he never once took his hard eyes of Dr. Foster. He stared coldly at her, emotionless eyes boring holes through her defenses. She was uncertain as to what the man was thinking, but she was sure she didn't want to know. Could he merely be hoping for some minor slip, an excuse to turn her over to Trask? She glanced at the man again, shivers creeping down her spine as she observed the cruel curl of his lip. She would not give this man any reason to do so much as speak to her.

"Dr. Foster," Trask gave a curt nod as he shut the door behind him. "The tests went well I presume?"

Dr. Foster nodded, forcing herself to speak in terms that Trask would find appropriate. "The _mutant_ is a very interesting _specimen_. He seems to have suffered some brain damage, though it appears to have been at a young age, and yet he appears to be the strongest _mutant_ you've brought in so far. It took a full sixty seconds before he completely reacted to the anesthesia." She gestured to one of the X-rays hanging above a light table. "He has a slight fracture in his skull; the result, I assume, from whatever method was used to cause him to lose consciousness last night. But it should not interfere with the project. He's healthy and well-toned, suggesting intense regular training or exercise. He shows no abnormalities, no negative responses to allergens, and no medical deficiencies of any sort other than the slight brain damage."

Trask nodded, absorbing this information. "Good. I want a team in here immediately to begin work on the serum."

"Yes, sir," she bowed her head, waiting for the man to leave.

Trask crossed the room to where she stood, placing his mouth beside her ear as he whispered menacingly, "No mistakes this time, Foster, or you will pay dearly. I believe you have a ten-year-old daughter?" He left the question dangly suggestively.

"You wouldn't," Dr. Foster stared disbelievingly at him, hatred emanating from her dark eyes.

"Oh, believe me, Foster. I most certainly would."

**XxX**

"So, remind me again what we're doing in here?" Jean's voice was laced with doubt as she peered around Scott's empty room.

Kitty rolled her eyes inwardly, yet she took a gentle patient tone with Jean. "Looking for anything out of place. I know Scott was probably kidnapped, but there's still a small chance ha may have disappeared on his own will. If you really want to find him, we can't rule out any options."

Jean stared blankly at the room, '_Look for anything out of place? The whole room is out of place!'_ It was true, the early call had caused Scott to leave his room in haste, leaving it completely unorganized and un-Scott-like. His comforter was half-piled on the floor and his sheets were a crumpled, twisted ball at the foot of the bed. A night-shirt lay atop scattered school books and his glasses had been knocked from his nightstand to the floor. Bending down, Jean gingerly returned the ruby-quartz shades to their spot on the bed table.

She let out a defeated sigh as she glanced around the room. _'If I was Scott and I wanted to leave, what would I do?'_ Her eyes lit on his tidy desk where one of his drawers was wedged open. A small leather-bound book had been shoved in, its corner catching at an angle as though stuffed there after a last minute thought. Glancing furtively at Kitty, Jean gently removed the book. It had an aura of secrecy radiating from it. Jean had a feeling Scott wouldn't have wanted anyone to find this book, and the powerful weight that had descended on her told her she should probably put it back, but Kitty's words lingered in her mind. Now was no time to respect Scott's privacy, especially if information in the book could save him. Still, she felt the need to keep the book as secret as possible, so she tucked it within the folds of her shirt, vowing to come back to it when she was safe in the confines of her own room.

**XxX**

Hours passed by slowly in the cold lab as assistants ran back and forth between work stations; measuring chemicals in graduated cylinders, adding to assorted test tubes, making slides and viewing them beneath microscopes, and scribbling various notes on their clipboards. Dr. Ami Foster looked around the room in dismay, feeling a headache begin to creep into her temples. She massaged her forehead with her hand, nothing was going as planned. At this rate they may never discover the mutant gene, and if they never discovered the mutant gene . . . Foster shook the thought from her mind. She would not allow herself to think on Trask's threats, that only made them more real, they would only serve to distract her. Glancing down at her watch she moved to the front of the room. "Trask will be here in under an hour!" She yelled over the noise, "We need to have something to show by then!" The numerous assistants muttered in assent, turning back to their stations, knowing all to well that when the time came they would have nothing to show.

**XxX**

Hands trembling at the thought of finding Scott, Jean opened the book, breathing in its calming scent: a mix of old spice and soap, the smell of Scott. The title page was a messy scrawl of blue ink; Jan could barely make out Scott's name and the dat (some six years earlier). Intrigued, Jean moved on to the next page where she was met by smears of the same ink and scrawl.

_Storm says I shouldn't be embarrassed for having a journal. I guess she's right, lots of guys have journals; Doug Funny, Jack Gantos, that guy in "The Wonder Years" . . . so why can't I?_

Jean smiled, Scott kept a diary? She could almost picture him sitting there, tongue in his cheek, head bent over the journal, bangs falling over his eyes . . . Jean felt a deep, heart-wrenching ache in her chest. Reading entries from six years ago was not going to help her find Scott. Feeling somewhat flustered, Jean flipped towards the later half of the book. "Come on, Scott," she murmured, "show me what I need to see."

The first thing Jean noticed about the latest entry was how much Scott's penmanship had improved over the last few years. Of course, his first entries must have been right after he regained his sight, so it was normal for him to have to relearn his writing skills. The next thing she noticed was the date; it was the day before Scott had disappeared. Jean eagerly bent over the notebook, greedily drinking in its contents.

_Jean knows. Not the full truth, of course, but she knows I was never in love with Taryn, and she knows that I'm in love with someone else. She's finally beginning to understand, she knows I'm serious about this one, that it's not some silly junior high crush. All that's missing from the picture in her mind is the girl. It bothers her, I can tell, she hates not being able to know. If only I could paint a picture of how she looked today when I told her, she was so frustrated, despite that she was trying to appear happy for me. She doesn't know that the girl I love, the one I've always loved, is her._

The book fell from Jean's hands, tumbling freely to the ground. "Scott loves me?"

**XxX**

"Dr. Foster, report." Trask stared coldly at the Asian doctor.

Ami Foster glanced nervously at her team of assembled genetic scientists, but they all avoided her gaze. Suddenly she felt ten-years-old again, standing in front of a brutal teacher with none of her fellow students to back her. She coughed, clearing her throat. "We're having trouble identifying the mutant gene."

Trask banged his fist on the metal counter, causing many of the newer lab assistants to jump. "What am I paying you people for?" he roared. "Incompetent fools! I give you one simple task! How much longer will this take? Tell me you've made _some_ progress."

"Of course," Foster said quickly, "We just need a bit more time."

Trask glanced at his watch. "You have two hours, I suggest you hurry."

The group of lab assistants scurried to their respective positions, huddling over microscopes and adding various chemicals to test tubes. Dr. Foster turned back to her clipboard, frowning down at the nonsensical figures and equations crawling across the page. Something wasn't adding up. Foster glanced back at her notes before adjusting the focus on her microscope. Perhaps she'd been looking in the wrong place all along. She focused in on a body cell, adding a drop of methylene blue to the slide. She pulled the nucleus into focus before switching to a higher power. After studying the complications of the organelle for a moment, Foster turned back to her clipboard, scribbling furiously on her notes. What were the chances that the gene was located among the double-helix formation of a Deoxyribonucleic Acid nucleotide? That the "X" gene had originated from an abnormality in one of the nitrogen bases?

"Trask!" Her voice trembled, overcome with triumphant pride. "I've found it!" Assistants crowded around her excitedly as she demonstrated how she'd located the gene, trying not to gloat. For a moment she forgot the consequences of her discovery, forgot the suffering it would undoubtedly cause. For a moment she was Dr. Ami Foster, Ivy League graduate and proud parent, not Dr. Foster, pawn of ruthless Trask.

"Excellent," Trask nodded. "You're all permitted an hour break. But I expect you all back here by 2:15 to commence the search for an inhibitory serum."

**XxX**

Jean tapped her pencil repeatedly against her chin, staring absently at the sheet of calculus problems Kitty had brought home for her. After recovering from the initial shock of what she'd found in Scott's diary, Jean had decided to put it from her mind and had committed herself to hours of intense studying.

"Je-ean!" Jamie Madrox's voice echoed up the stairwell. "Phone for you!"

"Thanks, Jamie!" she yelled back down. "Can you put it on hold? I'll get it up here!"

"They're holding!"

Jean rolled her eyes at Jamie's love for yelling up and down the stairs. "Hello?" she spoke into the phone.

"Hey, Jean! It's Sandy."

"Oh, hey Sandy. What's up?" Jean started doodling on a pad of paper she had by the phone. It was an old habit of hers, one she'd never quite been able to get over.

"You weren't in school today," Sandy pointed out, "I was just calling to see how you were."

Jean smiled at her friend's concern, "I'm okay now, I guess. I just felt really awful this morning, couldn't get out of bed."

"Oh, that's too bad." There was a pause. "Scott wasn't in school either."

"Yeah I know," Jean wracked her brain for a plausible excuse. "There's a bit of a flu going around, I think we both got it. He's been in his room all day, I haven't even seen him. Guess he's got it worse than I do."

"Yeah, that's too bad." Sandy paused again, "Jean, I think you should know Taryn's saying some things about you and Scott."

Jean kept doodling, Taryn was always saying things, what else was new? "Oh, like what?"

Sandy seemed unable to keep it in any longer, "That you two cut school today to go out together."

Jean forced a laugh, trying to keep tears from her eyes. '_You have no idea how much I wish that were true.'_ "Nothing could be further from the truth, Sandy. I was in bed all morning and have been doing homework since Kitty brought it home for me. As for Scott, well . . . as far as I know he hasn't even gotten out of bed."

"Oh, okay," Sandy sounded relieved. "I just though you should know, Taryn's getting a bit suspicious. After Duncan's party . . . well, you two did kind of leave together."

Jean had to laugh at that one. "Sandy, I ran out of the house crying 'cause Duncan had tried to force me into something I didn't want, and Scott came to comfort me and give me a ride home. He's my best friend, okay? You really think something is going on between the two of us?"

"No, I guess not. Well, I probably should go, Matt wants to call up one of his friends about some stupid football game." Jean could sense Sandy rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone. "I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, see you!"

"Bye."

Jean set the phone gently in its cradle, shaking her head at what she'd just heard. Taryn was always one for jumping to conclusions. If something had gone wrong between her and Scott it most certainly wasn't _her_ fault, so it must have been caused by some outside factor, like Jean. _'I can't believe I've been friends with her for this long. She really can be a witch.'_ Jean looked down at the mass of doodles she collected during her phone conversation. Her eyes landed on a strange shape, one that she couldn't remember ever having seen before, one that she certainly wouldn't have ever have drawn. She closed her eyes, searching her mind for whatever had produced the image, and was suddenly overcome by emotion. When she opened her eyes, everything she saw was red. She was trapped in a dark cell, one with barely enough light to see the insignia carved on the door. She gasped as she recognized the insignia as the drawing she'd down during her conversation. She closed her eyes once more, and when she opened them she was lying panting in her own room, only one word lingering on her mind. "Scott."

**XxX**

**A/N: **And that's all for now! Hey, look, I've updated twice in the same month! Anyway, hope you all liked this chapter! I promise most questions will be answered next time, seeing as how next time will most likely be the rescue mission! ;) Please review! You know they help me write faster!

**Wen1:** Of course JOTT Forever! And don't worry, I'm hoping they find Scott in the next chapter. No promises, though.  
**Idypesbsaby:** Thanks for being so understanding about the slow updates! School does suck, most of the time. I hope this chapter cleared a lot up for you!  
**Mark C:** I'm glad you liked the part with Kitty, I was really hoping it would have that effect.  
**GothikStrawberry:** hugs back I'm actually liking Foster's character, she's fun to write.   
**FastpitchDevil:** I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing, I'm hoping it answered some of the questions people had about Foster in the last chapter. Glad you found the last chapter easy to understand!  
**jott luuuuuuuuuver:** Glad you like it so far Jott forever!  
**LanceIsHot:** I'm glad you liked that little side story about Scott. I wrote that awhile back, when I'd just started the story, and once the story developed that part didn't seem to fit very well, but I had to put it in.  
**Goblyn-Queen:** Hope this was up soon enough!  
**Amber Moons:** Aren't snow days one of the greatest ideas of mankind?  
**Diaz F:** No, Kitty didn't really know where to find him, but what she helped Jean find may have just made the connection between Jean and Scott a little bit stronger.  
**s-summers1986:** I'm glad you like the story, and I'm sorry the updates take so long, but I don't have much choice. Unfortunately, this fic can't be my first priority all the time.  
**Lavender Gaia: **I very much agree with you about Duncan, there is a very thin line between where he is now and psychotic. And you're right, of course, about Jean and Scott. Hopefully they'll be together by the end of the next chapter.  
**Demonestress:** Very good point about Jean. But aren't we all occasionally blind to our true feelings?

_**Please Review!**_

_**DOJ**_


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N:** I know, I know, you all hate me for taking so long to update. I don't even have a plausible excuse this time . . . other than the fact that X-men Evolution was taken off the air a couple of weeks ago so I have found no motivation to write. That and the fact that soccer and school have been keeping me really busy, but soccer just ended so hopefully I'll have more time to write. This chapter is also a fair bit longer than most, so I hope that makes up for the delay. I want to apologize for anything I may have screwed up with Trask's story, as I didn't exactly to research ahead of time and I'm mainly an Evo fan (haven't read many comics). I'm not to happy with this chapter, but something had to happen, so here it is.

**Disclaimer**: I own absolutely nothing except for any changes to the plot that you don't recognize. Bob belongs to the joint ideas of me, Melissa, and Gwen.

"Normal speaking"

'telepathically speaking'

'_thoughts'_

**XxX**

Jean paced across the hallway, waiting for the Professor to finish speaking with a few of his acquaintances that he believed could aid them in finding Scott. Chills crept up and down her arms excitedly, causing the tiny hairs to stand on end. Briskly, she rubbed her arms with her hands, using her telekinesis to suspend a sheet of notebook paper in the hair so as not to crease it. She kept her mind focused on the vision she'd just had – there was no other word for what she'd experienced. If she hadn't known any better she would have thought she'd been hallucinating, but it had all felt so real, as though Scott had actually been locked inside of her all along.

"Jean?" she jumped at the sound of the Professor's voice, "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," she snatched the paper out of the air, stepping into Professor Xavier's office. "Professor, I think I may have a way to find Scott."

"Oh?" The Professor raised his eyebrows as Jean nodded, handing him the sheet of paper. His brow furrowed, "Why don't you have a seat, Jean."

Though she felt all too jumpy to sit still, Jean obliged, perching herself anxiously on the edge of a leather chair. "I drew that, Professor, but I've never seen anything like it before. I was just doodling while I talked on the phone, and when I finished it was there, right amidst the hearts and stars." She folded her hands in her lap, staring at him seriously. "Professor, I would never have been able to drawn something like that unless I'd seen it multiple times before."

The Professor looked at her intently, "Is there anything else you wish to tell me?"

Jean nodded. "After I saw the drawing, I felt . . . frightened, so I closed my eyes, trying to remember where I might have seen it before. When I opened my eyes everything I saw was red. I was sitting in cell and this insignia was on the door. Professor, I felt like I was seeing everything through Scott's eyes; I could feel his heavy breathing, I could hear water dripping, I could feel the cold . . ." She trailed off, shivering.

A suppressing silence filled the room as Professor Xavier surveyed his student. Jean had never ceased to amaze him; even as a young girl she attacked every challenge with a contagious fervor. She had been frightened when she'd first moved to the Institute, frightened and feeling terribly alone, but she'd forced herself to face her fears, knowing with an elderly wisdom that there was nothing she could do but try to make the best of her new life. The Professor had no doubt that she was an extraordinary mutant, possibly even stronger than himself, but beyond that she was an even more extraordinary girl. Though he'd never encountered a story such as hers before, he was sure that if Jean believed she was truly seeing these things, there was a high chance that she was right. "Jean, if you truly are having some sort of . . . psychic connection with Scott, there may be a way to find him through you." He looked inquiringly at her.

She nodded, "I have nothing to hide from you, Professor."

"Alright, Jean, I want you to relax." Professor Xavier placed his fingertips by the sides of her temple, closing his eyes and urging her to do the same.

Memories blew past Jean in a dizzy blur, leaving her mind reeling from the exertion. 'Help me, Jean' the Professor's voice reverberated through her head, 'Help me find the memory I'm looking for.' Jean nodded, guiding the Professor along the intricate patterns of her mind until she found the bond she'd made with Scott.

Once again, Jean felt the chill of the damp cell, and heard the continuous drip of water. She shivered and moaned, rubbing the sudden pain in her left arm. Her head felt light and her stomach ached from lack of proper food. Suddenly a rush of memories overwhelmed her, and she felt as though she were watching a film being rewound. She saw a syringe filled with a bubbling orange liquid, a pretty Asian woman dressed in white, a steel table, a busy lab, a dank hallway, the same musty cell, a leaf-covered ground spinning beneath her, a black van bearing the same insignia she had drawn and a name . . .

Jean's eyes flew open as the Professor broke contact with her, leaving her head spinning. "Professor, those memories, were they . . .?"

"Scott's? Yes, I believe so."

"But how am I able to . . .?"

Professor Xavier sighed, placing his index fingers together as he often did when deep in thought. "Jean, do you remember when your powers began to evolve uncontrollably last spring?"

She nodded, "Scott made a connection with me that day. He saved my life."

"It was quite a powerful connection, if I remember correctly. I don't believe it ever truly closed. Perhaps in certain times when one of your emotions is particularly strong, the other experiences a bit of the same emotion."

Jean sat silently for a moment, this was too much information for her tired brain to process. Finally, she voiced aloud the three words continuously echoing through her mind. "What about Scott?"

"With a few well-placed calls and a search on Cerebro, I believe we will have confirmed his location by tomorrow morning." He smiled kindly at Jean. "Why don't you get some sleep and I'll tell the others to be prepared to leave in six hours."

**XxX**

Consciousness came and went as Scott lay awkwardly on the damp cell floor, fighting the heavy sleep that lingered over his eyes. More than once he sensed another presence in his mind during the time he spent awake, leaving him to wonder if a telepathic mutant was being kept prisoner in the same fashion. It was during one of these moments that Scott felt the excruciating pain as fresh memories were pulled from his thoughts, forcing him to relive the past forty-eight hours in shame. He wondered if, after seeing the memories of Scott's weakness, the telepath had given up on him.

Reveling in his brief brush with consciousness, Scott let his thoughts wander back to his favorite telepath. Had _she_ given up on him? Had the X-men? Why hadn't they found him yet? True, he hadn't used his powers so Cerebro wouldn't have picked up any mutant activity, but who knew if he was even in Cerebro's range?

"It's worth a shot," he muttered, rolling over to his side and using his hands to prop up his aching body. He knew firing at the door would be useless, even if he managed to blow it off its hinges he'd never be able to muster enough energy to escape. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face a wall that he thought divided his cell from another, and flipped his visor open, allowing the concussive blasts to erupt from his eyes. He willed himself to hang on minute after minute as he felt his energy waning, knowing that if he held on just a little bit longer, Cerebro had all the more chance of finding him.

**XxX**

SENTINEL

The word flickered across the screen followed by countless images and streams of data. The name had been pulled from deep within Jean's – or rather Scott's – memories, printed on the side of the black truck that had borne the now all-to familiar insignia.

"There! That's it! That's the logo that was on the side of the soldier's trucks!" Allison leaned over Charles Xavier's shoulder, pointing excitedly at an image on Cerebro's wide screen.

The Professor tried – and failed – to hide his smile. Allison reminded him so much of Jean at that age that it was easy to forget they were two different people. "You're certain, now?"

She nodded impatiently, "Positive. That's how they were able to corner me so fast. They jumped out and started yelling to each other, saying not to mess up or Trask would be furious. They kept mentioning that name."

"Trask? Yes, he seems to be in charge of the Sentinel project."

Allison's eyes scrolled the documents as they flashed on the screen, absorbing as much information as she could. "I know his research is some sort of mix of anthropology and genetics, but why would he need someone like me or Scott?"

_Because you're mutants._ Charles Xavier couldn't bring himself to say those words, the words that would justify every ill act against her for the rest of her life. Instead, he simply turned his head away, deciding to leave her final question unanswered for now.

MUTANT IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED  
NAME: SCOTT SUMMERS  
AGE: 18  
LOCATION: WHITESTONE, NEW YORK

"Allison," Xavier smiled, "Would you mind finding Logan for me? Tell him to alert the X-men; we've found Scott."

**XxX**

Bolivar Trask was unusually anxious as he berated Dr. Foster. He knew well enough that it would take days, maybe even weeks before a prototype serum would be ready for testing. Yet he was pressuring her to test the initial progress on the mutant.

"Trask, we can't do that," Ami Foster pleaded exasperatedly. "It would be unethical, there could be serious repercussions."

He sneered, "Since when has any of the work done here been considered ethical? If the American people believed our cause was ethical we wouldn't' be working underground. The people are uneducated; we're doing them a favor by alerting them to the dangers that surround them. And as for the repercussions," a cruel smile slowly unfurled on his chiseled face, "We can always find another mutant."

Dr. Foster stood, horrorstruck as the man curtly let her know that she had one hour to prepare the serum before the mutant would be brought in.

"Oh, and one last thing," Trask paused, his hand around the door. "I suggest you ensure the serum will produce some results, for Ari's sake."

As the door slammed shut behind Trask, Ami Foster sank to her knees, a muffled escaping from within her. She'd never wanted to hurt anyone, and no matter what Trask said to demean him, she knew this boy was a human, a person with a life, a life that deserved to be lived. She could still see him lying there, limp from the anesthesia with a childlike innocence that defied the rigid authority of his uniform. Somewhere out there he had a family that loved him, a mother and father who wanted no more than for their baby to be returned to them, siblings who missed the brother who'd taught them how to kick a soccer ball, to hit a baseball. He had a girl that he stared at from across the room, trying to find the right words to explain his feelings for her. And he had a girl who loved him in the same way. (**A/N: Yes, I know most of that _isn't_ true, but this is from Foster's imagination.)**

But she too had a family, one that leaned on her for support. She had a little girl whose life could be in jeopardy if Ami did so much as to defy Trask. Ami Foster did not want to take somebody's baby from them, but even more than that she feared having her baby taken from her. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she slowly rose to her feet, turning her attention to her lab station. "I am so sorry," she whispered, beginning to measure levels of chemicals. "But I have a little girl whose life depends on what I do with yours."

**XxX**

"Plugging in coordinates," Storm murmured to herself as she prepared the Blackbird for take-off. Behind her the older X-men strapped themselves into their seats, each too excited at the prospect of finding their friend to talk. Storm and Wolverine were leading the mission, Hank and the newer recruits following in the van for back-up.

Wolverine gave Storm a rare smile as she smoothly lifted the jet into the air. "You ready for this?"

She sighed, pausing a moment to take in the faces of the X-men, stopping at Jean's worried eyes. "I only hope we're not too late."

**XxX**

A sharp kick in the side roused Scott from his semi-conscious state. Brutus was back, this time accompanied by a young man no more than a year or two older than Scott. His square jaw jutted outward and his sandy colored hair hung awkwardly beneath his earlobes. The boy smirked at Scott, kneeling down beside him. "_This_ is the powerful mutant? And here I was expecting someone a bit more formidable."

"Bob," Brutus grunted, "Yer not s'posed to taunt 'im, just get the measurements or Trask will be on yer case."

The boy – Bob – rolled his eyes, muttering something about not being afraid of Trask. "I don't have enough equipment here. We'll have to take him to Foster's lab."

Brutus frowned, "But Trask said-"

"I know what Trask said, but if we give the mutant an overdose of the serum and kill him, or too little of a dose and it doesn't work, Trask will be furious. If we measure him properly the serum has more of a chance of working."

The older man seemed to contemplate this, his thick eyebrows knit together. "This is a good job I got 'ere," he said finally.

Bob smacked his forehead, clearly annoyed at having to deal with someone of such little intelligence. "Look, Trask will never know, okay? And if he somehow finds out I'll take the blame. Your job is safe, but if we keep debating this the serum will never be ready and Trask will have both our jobs!"

Scott felt his head spin as Brutus finally agreed, lugging him to his feet. It soon became evident that Scott was too weak to walk, so the two men settled fro dragging his limp body throughout the halls. Scott couldn't have cared less, however, he was still processing the conversation he'd just heard. He knew that Dr. Foster held his life in her hands, that she was the one responsible for creating and administering this serum. Yet nothing the two men had said alluded to the effects of the serum, except to say that an overdose could easily kill him. A sharp jerk from the guards caused his head to loll and thoughts to cease. _One minute at a time, Scott. That's how you'll survive, one minute at a time._

**XxX**

"The control room should be on the left, probably heavily guarded."

"I s'pose that's where ah come in?"

Storm smiled at Rogue, "Precisely, you'll take out the guards and enable Shadowcat to gain control of the lab's central control system."

"We'll be givin' you orders through your earpiece, half-pint, in case we need you to pull anything drastic."

Storm and Wolverine were briefing the X-men as they drew nearer to the base, trying to ensure that the procedure would run as smoothly as possible.

"Nightcrawler and Spyke, you'll be in the west wing checking the cells."

"Gotcha Auntie-O, I mean, Storm."

"Storm and Jean will take the lab and I'll take the machine room." Wolverine directed his gaze on an indignant Storm. "I don't' bruise nearly as easy as you two and there isn't the slightest chance that I'll get claustrophobic."

Storm stared levelly at Wolverine, only breaking her gaze to begin the X-jet's descent.

**XxX**

"What happened to him?" Dr. Ami Foster exclaimed in alarm as Brutus and Bob lifted Scott onto the steal table.

"Beats me," Bob shrugge3d, "He was like that when we found him, along with quite a large hole in the wall."

Foster shook her head, "Get on with the measurements then. Weight, blood pressure, temperature, heart rate; I want them all, anything that might affect the effects of the serum."

**XxX**

"C'mon," Shadowcat whispered to Rogue, "The control room should be down this way."

The two girls ran down the hall, feet padding silently on the linoleum floor. "Wait," Rogue pulled Shadowcat back against he wall just as two armed guards strolled through the adjacent hall, clearly not taking their position seriously as they joked with each other. Once they'd passed, the girls took to running once more, though they kept their eyes and ears alert for any possible danger.

"There it is," Shadowcat whispered, slowing to a halt as she pressed her back against a wall. Three guards armed with machine guns lounged outside a metallic door. "I'm going to phase through and, like, see if there's any way to get in without confronting them." Before Rogue could protest phased out and back, a smile tugging at her lips. "The guard in this room is asleep, we can phase through here and then into the control room." She grasped Rogue's hand tightly, "You ready to kick some serious butt?"

"If it'll help get our fearless leader back? Ya know ah am." The two girls fell back through the wall, careful not to make a sound lest they wake the sleeping guard.

"This way," Shadowcat mouthed, waving Rogue over to a wall. "Ready?" They slipped through several feet of solid wall, appearing seconds later in the middle of a crowded control room. Four heads turned, training their guns on the spot where the two girls lay in the middle of the floor, and eight eyes stared, clearly bewildered. "Um, hi?" Kitty smiled raising one hand in greeting, setting the soldiers into action. "Rogue, now!"

Rogue ripped one glove off her hand, smiling evilly as two of the soldiers advanced on her. Dropping to the ground, she brought her foot about in a swift arc, knocking them both to their feet. "Oh, y'all are making this too easy," she rolled her eyes at the dazed soldiers, brushing both their faces with her hand. "Two down, two to go."

Wolverine's intense training seemed to have paid off as Shadowcat was doing a fair job taking on her two attackers on her own. She phased through one and took a swift roundhouse kick to the other. "Rogue!" she yelled, "A little help!" She elbowed the first attacker in the stomach, turning only to find herself face to face with the second. Letting out a small shriek, Shadowcat squirmed as the man fastened his viselike hands around her biceps. Within seconds his grasp relaxed as he and Shadowcat fell to the floor. "Ow," she whined, rubbing her arms, "Like, you couldn't have done that sooner?"

Rogue rolled her eyes, "Didn't know I had to do everything here."

"You don't," Shadowcat crossed to the expansive keyboard. "I'm the one who does all the complicated stuff." She pulled the mini-microphone closer to her lips, "Storm, we're in."

**XxX**

Dr. Foster was carefully filling a syringe when the fluorescent lights began to flicker sporadically before going out entirely. She inhaled sharply, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. When the back-up generator didn't kick the lights back on, she shivered, noticing for the first time an occasional glow of red where she assumed the mutant's head was. It blinked once, then twice, followed by a low moan. Feeling slightly panicked at the idea of being alone in a dark room with the mutant, she curled her fingers around the thick syringe, holding it in front of her as she would a knife.

A scream pierced the air, followed by multiple shouts; shouts which seemed to rouse the mutant on the table. He sat up slowly; she could just see the dim outline of his rigid frame in the darkness, the red light now a constant glow around his glasses. Foster's breath came in short, rapid gasps now as she inched her way around the room, her back flat against the wall. _If I could just reach the door . . ._ The thought lingered in her mind as she tried desperately not to make a sound. Before she could reach the door, however, the mutant had swung his legs off the table, and in an attempt to stand had collapsed in the doorway. Foster let out a small shriek as his arm brushed her foot, and she jumped backwards in surprise. _Easy now, Ami, just administer the serum and you'll be safe . . . he won't be able to hurt you._ For she was certain he would hurt her, after all, she'd helped to make his life miserable in the past two days, anyone would take this as a given chance to retaliate. Steeling herself against any conflicting issues that played in her mind, Ami Foster used her fingers to feel down his arm, searching for the thick vein on the inside of his elbow. Trembling, she pressed the tip of the needle to his arm, and inserted it deep into his vein before beginning to inject the fluid.

It was then that the door behind her gave a loud groan and was torn from its hinges, revealing a dilapidated laboratory outside. A young woman dressed in a slimming black and green one-piece floated in the air, red hair streaming behind her. When she caught sight of the mutant however, she fell to the floor, rushing to his side. "Scott," she whispered, stroking his silken brown hair, "Answer me Scott, please."

Ami Foster sat quaking against the wall, watching in a stunned horror as a regal African woman with snow-white hair followed the redhead. She knelt beside the young girl, "Jean, we need to get him out of here now. Wolverine is getting the others out."

Jean lifted tear-filled eyes from the boy's face, glaring defiantly at Dr. Foster. "What did you do to him?"

"I-I," Foster cleared her throat, unable to maintain eye contact with the girl. "It's just an inhibitory serum; it should stop his mutation for a few hours. I'm sorry," she added, feeling that it needed to be said. "I was just doing my job, I . . . I didn't want to hurt him."

"Jean," the African woman was lifting the girl to her feet now, "We have to leave now, for Scott's sake."

Jean nodded, appearing to concentrate on the boy's – Scott's - form. To Foster's surprise his body began to levitate in the air, following the two women out of the laboratory and into the darkness. Still in shock from what she'd seen, Foster relaxed against the wall, tears forming in her eyes. She hadn't expected it to come to this, hadn't expected she'd be required to put a life in jeopardy when she signed for this job. _But what can I do?_

**XxX**

The rest of the X-men were already waiting in the Blackbird by the time Storm and Jean arrived, their faces a mixture of awe and horror at the site of their disheveled leader. Without a word, Jean lightly set Scott down in the empty seat beside hers, allowing his head to roll onto her shoulder. His body tensed for a moment as her hair brushed his face, and his lips parted in silent movement as he tried to put sound to his words. "Shh," Jean soothed, brushing his hair from his forehead. "I'm here, Scott, you're safe now."

A smile curled across Scott's cracked lips as his body relaxed, and in that moment he fell asleep on his best friend's shoulder.

_**XxX**_

**A/N: **Yeah, so, as I've said I'm not to0 pleased with this chapter. It seems really weak to me. But Scott's safe now! Exams are coming up in two weeks, so the next chapter will hopefully be up after that . . . and then comes summer, where you will hopefully get a new update each time I have computer access . . . as long as the story continues that long. I'm not entirely sure where it's going to go after the next few chapters. Maybe it's almost done. Anyway, please review!

**LavenderGaia:** I agree, I can only imagine the many reasons why Jean was crazy enough to ever go out with Duncan, and as for Scott and Taryn . . . yeah, I can only assume that was just his way of coping with not being with Jean. I hope the rescue mission wasn't too disappointing, I'm better at writing fluff than action.  
**Sweetmidnight:** I'm glad you like it. It's the first time I've ever tried something other than your basic romance.  
**Diaz F:** I probably would have too. I think Jean might respect Scott's privacy a bit more though. ;)  
**GothikStrawberry:** I can understand empathizing with Taryn, I'd certainly hate to be in her situation. But I've always hated how she seemed to know she was stealing Scott from Jean. (Her conversation with her friends in "Shadow Dance")  
**Demonestress:** I like writing Jamie's character, he's fun. I usually model him after my little brother.  
**Wen1:** I know they weren't really looking for him, I'm sorry, it's not their fault, it's my own incompetence.  
**Williz: **I'm glad you like it.  
**s-summers1986:** Thanks for your review, it's flattering to know someone actually likes my story that much. I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting!  
**TelepathicAngel:** I hate making them be mean to poor Scott, but I have to in order to keep the suspense. He's safe now though!  
**Amber Moons:** Yup, that was an achievement, especially seeing as how it's taken me almost 2 months to get this one up. Sorry about that.  
**Strayphoenix:** Don't know if you got my review, but the song is "Roll to Me" by Del Amitri.  
**Helen:** I don't care when the reviews come as long as they do. :D Sorry for being so late with this update.  
**Jacx:** Hey, a new reviewer! Glad you like it so far!

_**Please Review!**_

_**DOJ**_


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N:** School is over! Meaning I now have a lot of free time on my hands, which means that until I begin to travel and lose computer access, I have a lot of time to write. )

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except for Ami Foster and the plot twists that you don't recognize.

"Normal speaking"

'telepathically speaking'

'thoughts'

**XxX**

The sun had just begun to rise as the Blackbird descended smoothly into the gap of a mountain. Four sleepy teens stumbled down the ramp, summoning enough energy to make their way to their rooms, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before rising for school. Jean watched their retreating forms for a moment before turning to where Scott lay unconscious in the seat beside her.

"Red," Logan leaned over the seat, "You got enough energy to get Slim here to the med-lab?"

"I think so," she murmured weakly.

Ororo reached out a hand, lightly touching Logan's arm. "Why don't you go with her, just in case. I'll find Charles and Hank."

"Right," Jean suppressed a giggle as Logan looked down at where Ororo's hand had just been in awe, "Right, c'mon Red, get to it."

**XxX**

Twenty minutes later Hank McCoy stepped from the med-lab, only to be ambushed by a weary looking Jean. "Is he going to be okay?"

Hank placed two broad hands on Jean's shoulders, looking her in the eye. "Jean, when is the last time you got any sleep?"

"I'm fine," she brushed off the comment, trying to stifle the urge to yawn, "How's Scott?"

Hank sighed, knowing there would be no way to speak seriously with the girl until she was satisfied. "He's going to be fine. He has a mild concussion and a few broken ribs, but as far as I can tell there's been no further damage done, aside from the obvious fatigue and lack of proper nutrition. It's you that I'm worried about Miss Grey. You are going to burn yourself out; your body can't handle so much stress."

"Are you suggesting that I go curl up in my nice warm bed while Scott lays alone in the med-lab?" Jean stared levelly at the man, "I'm not leaving him, what if he wakes up and no one is there?"

"There's no use in trying to reason with you, is there?" Hank sighed as Jean shook her head defiantly, "Fine, but do try and get some sleep while your in there, all right? It won't do Scott any good if he finds out that you've become ill because of him."

Jean smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around her instructor, "Thank you."

**XxX**

"Good morning, children," Ororo stepped into the kitchen, smiling in a manner that was all too cheerful for someone who'd been on a mission to the early hours of the morning.

"Mornin' Miss Munroe," Kitty mustered a weak smile as the other X-men merely grunted their greetings.

"The Professor has asked me to drive you all to school this morning, so I'll be waiting for you in the van."

"Vhat about Jean? Vhy can't she drive us?" Kurt looked up from his cereal in surprise.

"Jean will be staying home today," Ororo said gently.

"What? Hey man, that ain't fair, we were out just as late as – OW!" Evan yelped in pain as he earned two kicks in the shin (one from Kurt and Kitty) and a slap on the back of his head (from Rogue).

"You were saying, Evan?" Kitty smiled sweetly over her bagel.

"Nothing," Evan muttered, glaring at the other three darkly, "Nothing at all."

**XxX**

A low groan stirred Jean from her restless slumber. She rolled her head around her shoulders, trying to stretch out the uncomfortable crick in her neck as she looked around, trying to gather her bearings. It was then that she caught sight of Scott, lying bruised and broken, pale against the bright med-lab sheets. His dark hair flopped listlessly over the stark white bandage around his forehead. A jagged cut ran from the corner of his lip to his chin, and dark blue bruises had begun to rise over his arms. Jean knew that if she peeked underneath his shirt she'd find bandages wrapped tightly around his abdomen, securing his broken ribs. Scott moaned again and Jean moved to sit on the bed beside him.

"Jean?" he croaked, his voice cracking.

"Hey," she smiled down at him, stroking his hair.

"Is that really you?" He reached out a hand.

Jean grasped it with her own, "Yes, it's really me." Suddenly she was all too aware of how close they were sitting, "Here, you must be thirsty," she stood, getting him a class of water from the sink.

"Thanks," he whispered, drinking greedily. When he'd finished, he looked up at Jean again. Scott didn't want to take his eyes off of her, he was afraid that if he did she'd just disappear. He reached his hand out, grasping hers tightly once more. "Are you sure it's really you?"

Jean laughed, "I'm sure."

"I'm sorry," Scott said somewhat bashfully, "I'm just . . . afraid of losing you again."

"You never lost me, Scott." Jean whispered, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it gently. A moment past as they sat there, smiling at each other. Jean cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks beginning to burn, "So, um, how are you feeling?"

"I'm all right for the most part. Something feels different though," Scott mused aloud, his brow furrowing. "My head feels lighter, clearer. And the red . . . it's not as intense as it used to be."

Jean eyed him curiously, puzzling over something in her own mind. "Scott, can I try something for a second? I promise I won't look at anything you don't want me too."

Scott considered this, "All right, I trust you."

She smiled at him, "I want you to relax."

With his safety in Jean's hands, Scott knew that nothing could be easier. Slowly but surely he felt a familiar presence in his mind, one that seemed to caress his every thought with a tenderness he always imaged as Jean's touch. Yet almost as quickly as she'd entered his mind, Jean pulled out again, leaving him with an aching emptiness.

"I don't know how long this is going to last so you're going to have to trust me now and ask questions later." Her eyes were filled with a dancing excitement that Scott had never seen before. He parted his lips to speak, but she cut him off by placing a finger on his lips. "Trust me," she moved her hands from his mouth and lifted his glasses off his eyes.

"Jean, what are you doing?" He panicked, clamping his hands over his eyes.

"Scott," Jean was beginning to sound irritated. "I told you to trust me; I know what I'm doing."

"I don't want to hurt you," he replied stubbornly.

"You won't," she placed a comforting hand on his bare wrist, "You're only hurting yourself. Please, Scott, just trust me." Tightening her grasp on his wrist, Jean lightly tugged Scott's hand off his eyes, suppressing a laugh as he squeezed them shut like a small child. "I'll be okay, Scot, just open your eyes for me, please."

There was something about the way the word 'please' followed so desperately after "for me" that made Scott cave inside. Though fear still laced his insides, Scott found himself opening his eyes, only to find himself staring into Jean's emerald green ones. _Green?_ Scott's eyes widened in surprise as he looked around, colors colliding at all angles. Jean's hair was a rich and vibrant red, her eyes an astonishing green, her shirt was a pale purple, her pants khaki, the med-lab's sheets were white, and the lights cast a golden halo on the steel counters. Scott glanced down at himself, noticing for the first time the blue of the sleeves on his tan pajamas and the paleness of his skin. He looked back at Jean in wonder, "Your eyes are green. I always knew that but . . . I never realized . . ." he trailed off, looking around the room again, trying to absorb all the colors he could.

Jean, herself, was in awe. She was in aw of the wonderment that possessed Scott, the way he looked on the room as though seeing everything for the first time. But most of all she was in awe at the color of Scott's eyes, the warm color of hot chocolate that seemed to contain all the depth of the world. He had the kind of eyes that she could imagine getting lost in for hours. The kind of eyes that deemed a boy worthy of a double take.

When he had absorbed all he could, sucked the vibrancy of each and every color, he finally turned back to Jean, a tinge of sadness in his eyes. 'What color are they?" he whispered.

"What color are what?"

"My eyes," he gave her a sad smile. "I've forgotten what they look like."

Jean could feel tears pricking the back of her eyes as she cupped Scott's face in her hands. "You have the most beautiful brown eyes that I have ever seen." She slid her hand into her pocket, extracting a small mirror for Scott.

Looking in the mirror his eyes widened in surprise. It had been so long since he'd seen his face without the obstructive glasses. He smiled at himself liking, for the first time, what he saw. He knew it was too god to last, however, as he felt the familiar pressure building in his head and the pricking at the back of his eyes. Sighing, he took one last look at himself, at the colors around him, and turned to Jean. "It's over," he whispered, taking his glasses from her hand. He slipped them on just as the first blast threatened to break from his eyes. He turned to face her, her angelic features bathed in red, the red he was doomed to see for eternity. Impulsively, he reached out his hand, caressing her cheek. He tilted his head down as Jean lifted hers up, pausing with only a fraction of a centimeter between their lips. "Thank you," he whispered, his breath warm on her face. His arms traveled down to her waist, pulling her close as her arms snaked around his neck.

The kiss was unlike anything Jean had ever felt before, unlocking feelings she'd never known she'd had. It wasn't that this was her first kiss, no, Duncan had kissed her numerous times before, but those kisses had never felt anything like this. She felt a fire burning in her chest as she melted into Scott's arms. Her own body fit perfectly in his arms, _Why didn't I ever notice that before?_

The kiss stopped almost as suddenly as it had started, with Scott pulling away, his cheeks burning. He removed his arms from around her back, and began nervously playing with his fingers. "Uh, Jean?" He ran his fingers through his hair, then moved his hand down to the back of his neck.

Jean had never seen Scott look so nervous before, if she hadn't sensed that what he was about to say was going to be completely serious she would have laughed. "Yes?"

"Look, when I was . . . y'know, with Trask . . . I had a lot of time to think. So many different scenarios . . . different possibilities of what could happen to me, entered my mind. I was afraid that I was going to die," his voice cracked and he looked away for a moment. "But what scared me more than that was, well, was the idea that I might never see you again." He sighed, finding enough courage within himself to finally make eye contact with Jean. "You see, the thing is . . . I love you Jean, I always have, I've just been too afraid to tell you."

Jean smiled, brushing his cheek with her hand. She kissed him softly, gently, before looking up at him. "Scott, I love you too."

**XxX**

**A/N:** I still haven't seen the episode where they reveal Scott's eye color, but from looking at pictures I gathered that they were brown. So, um, I'm sorry if I was wrong, please feel free to correct me!

**Wen1:** She may have administered the serum, but see what good came from it?  
**williz:** Believe me, I'm just as happy as you are that Scott's safe.  
**Iceglitter:** As long as you keep reviewing, there is no way I won't continue.  
**GothikStrawberry:** Thanks )  
**ssummers1986:** Glad you like it, I hope there wasn't too much of a break between the updates this time  
**Demonestress:** I'm thinking that if the X-men have anything to say about it Trask won't do anything to Foster's kid. Besides, it's not really Ami's fault that Scott got away.  
**Diaz F:** Nope the serum isn't permanent, though that would be interesting. And as for Ami Foster, I'm not entirely sure what to do with her yet, though I do think the X-men should help her . . .  
**jott luuuuuuuuuver: **Thanks, I'm glad you like it.  
**Mark C:** I'm glad you liked the bit with the mission, I always think I'm horrible at writing those. I think I'd like to see them help Ami Foster as well.  
**Helen:** Thanks  
**Mystic-nightmares:** Wow, you've only seen the movie and you still like my story? (blushes) Thanks so much! X-men Evolution really is great if you ever get the chance to check it out, it's so cute. But thanks so much for the sweet review!  
**Ingrid:** don't worry, I wouldn't even think about abandoning this story now  
**sweetmidnight:** I think everyone feels a bit sorry for Ami, which is good 'cause that's kind of what I was going for. I didn't want a typically cruel and unfeeling "bad guy".  
**Lavender Gaia:** I'm glad you liked the bit with Kitty and Rogue. Kitty has got to be one of my favorite characters, and I love how brilliant she is despite the fact that most people make her incredibly ditzy in their stories.  
**Telepathic Angel:** Thanks for being so understanding, I honestly don't know how people who update more than once a month do it.  
**Amber Moons:** Thank you so much. I know I sound down a lot of the time, but I'm really critical of my own work. I don't usually let people read my work because I hate "constructive criticism," so I guess that just makes me overly critical of myself.


	14. Epilogue

Every girl loves the boy next door, the boy they spent their whole lives chasing after only to find themselves wrapped up in his arms when they needed him most. They love his natural shyness, but even more so they love the openness that he radiates when in their presence. They secretly love his playful teasing, though they pretend that it drives them crazy. They are crazy about the little quirks that define him, the ones that are so adorable yet infuriating at the same time.

For me, I loved the way his bangs fell across his glasses when he tilted his head, how is brow creased and lips pursed when he concentrated, how is lips would quirk upwards slightly when he found something amusing but was trying hard not to smile, and how he'd look at me with that intensive gaze of his, as though I was the only girl in the world. Though I always chastised him for it I loved the moments when he'd sneak up behind me and just stand there until I turned around, stifling a scream as I found his face just inches away from mine. And above all else I loved how he protected me, more so than even a brother would reach out to protect his sister. Though I would deny it, our relationship was never simply platonic. I would call our deep connection the product of a true friendship, while he would jokingly call it fate. Perhaps it was fate. Two strangers thrown together by circumstances beyond their control? It certainly sounds like something a true believer in fatum would consider the workings of some higher power. I'd been against our friendship from the start, determined to never establish more than a mutual acknowledgement towards another mutant, but it had happened anyway.

I'd loved him for longer than he would ever know, longer than I cared to realize. But I'd done a wonderful job of dimming those feelings, quashing them to a point in which they were nearly extinguished. By the time I'd finally come to realize what my heart was trying to tell me, I was afraid he was no longer in the cards for me. And then he was taken from me, something which hurt so much I was afraid my heart had been ripped from my chest. It was in that time that I realized what I had to do, what I should've done long ago.

I almost let Scott Summers slip away from me, I almost lost him because I was too afraid to admit my own feelings for him, I was afraid of being rejected by my best friend. But I guess that wasn't what fate had in mind. Scott Summers was my boy next door, the boy down the hall, my best friend; he was everything I ever wanted but never realized I could have. Some girls go for the popular guys, the tough football players, the ones that offer the clichéd high school experience. But what girls never notice is that the boy the really want is waiting for them just next door.

**XxX**

**A/N:** After much deliberation I've finally come to a conclusion. Before you all flame me, this is _not_ the end of the story, it is simply the end of "The Boy Next Door". Out of all the fanfics I've ever written this one means the most to me, it's the one I'm proudest of. And because of that, I'm terrified of making the mistake of letting it get away from me. I don't want to extend it to the point that it begins to lose its plot. So, in order to keep it sacred to me, I'm stopping here. I will, however, be writing a sequel, it's more of a companion, a continuation of the story. It will pick up right where this bit left off. Those of you who still want more JOTT are welcome to read it, and those of you who are content with how this ended are welcome to stop reading here. For those of you who are curious of where the next story is going to go, it will most likely cover the reactions of Bayville to the new Scott/Jean. And, due to popular demand, it will include the search for Dr. Foster. I hope some of you decide to read it! Thank you all so much for staying with me this long! Hugs to you all – DOJ

**Diaz F:** I'm glad you liked the bit with Scott seeing in color again, I've actually had that bit written for awhile. I'm quite proud of it.   
**Wen1:** Cuteness is all I ever need, glad you liked it!

**Marvlix: **When I'd originally written the passage I'd had Scott's eyes as blue, that's always how I pictured them to be, but the picture I saw looked brown so I went with that.

**Mark C:** I always love your reviews! I'm glad you liked the bit with Evan, that's always how I've imagined his character. And if you are interested to see where their relationship goes, make sure you check out the sequel! Once I get around to posting it . . .

**Strayphoenix:** don't worry, there will definitely be more! I can't give this up now!

**Lavender Gaia:** I love Kitty, she was originally my favorite character when I first saw X-men Evolution (the first episode I saw being "Spykecam") I hate how people always make her out to be a brainless ditz. You'd think that a moment as important as Scott _without_ glasses would certainly deserve a close-up. I guess the animators' minds just don't work the same way as mine.

**Ingrid, Helen, pinkpunkmonkey, Deh Maia, jacx, **and **ssummers1986:** I'm glad you all liked it, sorry it took so long to get up!

**Emily, bookjunkie, **and** shield-maiden:** Thanks for your opinions on his eye color, it really is too bad that the animators didn't color his eyes well. Wouldn't you think that a moment that important would deserve a bit more attention?

**Amber Moons:** I'm glad that moment worked well enough to please you! It's so hard writing that bit, 'cause you know that's what everyone is waiting for . . . talk about pressure.

**GothikStrawberry:** I'm happy for them too! Thanks for the sweet review! I'm glad you think it ended well.

**Sweetmidnight:** Yeah, I've noticed there are some unanswered, including Ami (not that I was ever planning on leaving her like that). So if you want them answered, make sure you check out the next installment! And yeah, I did mean for the Logan/Ororo hint, I'm not planning on going into them in detail, but I couldn't resist that bit.

**Telepathic Angel:** Yeah, the episodes are delayed here too! They played the first two seasons repetitively, took Evolution off air, put those two seasons back on again though they included the third season this time, and then took it off again. So I still haven't seen the fourth season.

**Iceglitter: **Aw, thinks for the sweet review, I'm glad you thought it was perfect!

**Crystal:** It's your favorite Jott? Really? Aw, I'm blushing now!


End file.
